Poetic Prose: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

The Return of Sherlock Holmes

“Outside the wind howled down Baker Street, while the rain beat fiercely against the windows. It was strange there in the depths of the town, with ten miles of man’s handiwork on every side of us, to feel the iron grip of Nature, and to be conscious that to the huge elemental forces all London was no more than the molehills that dot the fields.”

(From “The Golden Pince-nez.”)

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About ryan85

A son, a brother, a husband, a father of eight, and a friend. A follower of Jesus Christ. A fan of the Seminoles and all teams Atlanta. I write, I read, and teach when I can. I prefer red pens. I'm easily distracted. I've lived in Augusta, GA, northern Minnesota, the beautiful western NC mountains, and Tallahassee, FL - Go 'Noles. I played football for FSU, was on the national championship team in 1999, and took a few snaps with the Pittsburgh Steelers. My favorite colors are fluorescent yellow, and Garnet & Gold. I drive a minivan and think it's cool.
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One Response to Poetic Prose: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

  1. Pingback: What I learned: The Return of Sherlock Holmes, by Arthur Conan Doyle | Discovering Writing

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