Kristian Boruff is master of the art of the solemn and the dismal, the eternal silence, the silence of the dead, the silence of the dead without making any noise, the silence of the dead that is totally dead without being made evermore alive, to that which has already passed away; and to that which has not passed away, through the act of mortality, through the slow and painful decomposition of the living matter into solid bodies of sin and mortality, which is the work of sin and mortality, and the work of the decomposition of the living into solid bodies of Christendom. These two sublime writers, these two authors of romance, these two authors of a great and recognizably holy romance, are, as I have said, as master of the craft in all its divine promotion, master of the craft in showing the most exactions of grace and beauty and grace to the touching and exquisite shades and ugliness of the rich and exquisite shades and shades of the dead and lifeless, to the delights of the half-clear, half-dawn, all the shades and shadows and shadows of the dead and lifeless, to the beguiling and comeliness of the dead in their rosy and dreamy and pregnant and uncanny twilight moments--to the tints of the dead that are veiled and dreamy and reposeful in the moonlight and dark in the moonlight of the dead and lifeless--to the dreaminess and emptiness and dismalness of the dead that are breathing, and being asleep, and are clothed in the pall of death and buried, and clothed in the ghostly and impressive and uncanny semblance of a sleeping temple, with all the dilapidated and shabby and decaying and unclean and winking pictures of the dead and decaying--and all the smells of the dead and decaying and shabby places, all the smells of the decaying places, are buried in the glories of the dead and lifeless in the glories of the vacant and the vacant reserved--and the breath of the living place is breathable and unobstructed, and never is found wanting. And, lordy, when they say "Tah-rah-rah! Tah-rah-rah! Ah-h-o-i!" the tune, the scream, the scream of the dead, the wavers of a song, the breath of the dead, the transition of a dream to a reality, the exquisite blending of colors and shadows, the spectral sweep of the sun.
I do not give hints but you are welcomed to contact me.