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Moon catches the flying fish as they dive in the bay.  Flying fish spin over and over slippity-silver into the water.  Mom bends over jungles and touches the foreheads of tigers as they pass under openings made by dropped leaves.  Tigers stop on the trail of the deer while the moon is on their foreheads—­ they let the stags go by.

Moon is shining strangely on the white palings of the fence.  Fence keeps very still... most times it moves a little... everything moves a little though you mayn’t know it... but now the little fence wouldn’t change places with the great cross that stands so stiff and high with its back to the moon.  Moon shining strangely on the white palings of the fence, I am shining too but my light is shut inside of me and can’t get out.

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Old house with black windows—­ blind house begging moonlight to put out the shadows—­ why do you want so much light?  You creak when the wind steps on you—­ you cough up dust and your beams ache—­ you know you will soon fall, the moon just pities you!  Don’t waste yourself moon—­ come on my bed and play with me.  Wrap me up in blue light, you who are cool.  I am too hot, I am all alive and the shadows are outside of me.

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There are different kinds of shadows.  The blind ones are the shadows of things.  These are the tame shadows—­ they love to play on the wall with you and follow you about like cats and dogs.  Sometimes they hiss at you softly like snakes that do not bite, or swish like women’s dresses, but if you poke a candle at them they pull in their heads and disappear.

But there is a shadow that is not the shadow of a thing... it is a thing itself.  When you meet this shadow you must not look at it too long... it grows with your looking at it... till you are all alone with nothing around you... nothing... nothing... nothing... but a shadow with its eyes full of black light.

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There’s a shadow in the corner of the shed, crouching, lying in wait... a black coiled shadow, watching... ready to strike... but I mustn’t be afraid of it—­ I mustn’t be afraid of anything.  Poor evil shadow, the candle would chase it away only she can’t get at it.  Do you think that every one hates you, shadow with your back to the wall, afraid to lie down and sleep?  But I don’t hate you.  Even the moon means to be kind.  She just treads on you as I’d tread on a worm that I didn’t see.  Don’t be afraid of me, shadow.  See—­I’ve no light in my hand—­ nothing to save myself with—­ yet I walk right up to you—­ if you’ll let me I’ll put my arms around you and stroke you softly.  Are you surprised I’d put my arms around you?  Is it your black black sorrow that nobody loves you?

V

JUDE

When you tell mama you are going to do something great she looks at you as though you were a window she were trying to see through, and says she hopes you will be good instead of great.