HE LIT a cigarette and lay down on his bunk. The four white walls, broken in their vulgar nakedness by a mirror, a light switch and a buzzer, enclosed his body and his mind...

ANNE took her badge from the M. P. at the gate and walked swiftly down the black-top road leading to the main part of the camp...

A Little Boy: There's an old, old man lives on our street, And his hair is white, like winter's snow. He walks bent over, like his back is broke,...

The walls are close and the ceilings low that hold the voices. Sad words filter through the door jambs, Mourning a young sinner...

The fire of hell, I think, depends Not on the brimstone Moses names...