H. P. Lovecraft and Winifred V. Jackson, The Green Meadow (1927)
“ I knew the green scaly forest hated me, yet now I was safe from it, for my bit of bank had drifted far from the shore.But though one peril was past, another loomed up before me. Pieces of earth were constantly crumbling from the floating isle which held me, so that death could not be far distant in any event. Yet even then I seemed to sense that death would be death to me no more, for I turned again to watch the Green Meadow, imbued with a curious feeling of security in strange contrast to my general horror. ”
