I dreamed I approached the House of Desire: the foundations were eroded, the walls shifting, the rain came down through the cracks in inexpressible dreariness, and the windows were struck open like vacant expressionless eyes. A gloomy chill hung over everything, as if the world had been crying for a thousand years and derived no relief from its endless tears; any respite in the downpour was merely a pause before some fresh up-welling of eternal grief, and the drops trickled down the unadorned tree-branches that straggled here and there around the grounds.