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That cold white candent voice which was more caustic than silver nitrate and more thrilling than a scream.
--
Ch. 22, p. 335

 

Frederick Rolfe

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A Hebrew knelt in the dying light,
His eye was dim and cold,
The hairs on his brow were silver-white,
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In Asia or the Arab world or in Africa, where the Muslims are, if you find one who says he's white, all he's doing is using an adjective to describe something that is incidental about him…. There is nothing else to it. He's just white. But when you get the white man over here in America and he says he's white, he means something else. You can listen to the sound of his voice when he says he's white. He means he's boss.

 

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A harvest mouse goes scampering by,
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