Entering the front door, you were at once assailed by a nightmare of cheerlessness and squalor, all the sordid melanchol — Anthony Powell, A Dance to the Music of Time: 3rd Movement
Entering the front door, you were at once assailed by a nightmare of cheerlessness and squalor, all the sordid melanchol — Anthony Powell, A Dance to the Music of Time: 3rd Movement
Entering the front door, you were at once assailed by a nightmare of cheerlessness and squalor, all the sordid melanchol — Anthony Powell, A Dance to the Music of Time: 3rd Movement
Entering the front door, you were at once assailed by a nightmare of cheerlessness and squalor, all the sordid melanchol — Anthony Powell, A Dance to the Music of Time: 3rd Movement
Entering the front door, you were at once assailed by a nightmare of cheerlessness and squalor, all the sordid melanchol — Anthony Powell, A Dance to the Music of Time: 3rd Movement
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Entering the front door, you were at once assailed by a nightmare of cheerlessness and squalor, all the sordid melancholy, at its worst, of any nest of bedrooms where only men sleep;

— Anthony Powell, A Dance to the Music of Time: 3rd Movement
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I'm so cool that the kids come to my bedroom and go, 'Mom! Turn the music down! — Melissa Etheridge
You are like a god, like an immortal one,' she whispered to me one night in our bed, her naked body pressed to mine, our — Roman Payne
I think poetry without metaphor is like husband and wife living in separate bedrooms. — Munia Khan