_The line between noble dreams and madness is thin, and loneliness can push men past it...._ Onward sped the _Wanderer_, onward through cold, silent infinity, on and on, an insignificant pencil of silver lost in the terrible, brooding blackness.…
Your support pays for translating these classics into more languages.
Support for $12/month DonateSubscribers read with instant translation, without waiting for the free daily limit.