ISBN: 9780285622876 - edge of darkness, edge of light (3 Ergebnisse)

Hardback. Zustand: Very Good. The book has been read, but is in excellent condition. Pages are intact and not marred by notes or highlighting. The spine remains undamaged.

Hardcover. Zustand: Very Good. Zustand des Schutzumschlags: Very Good. First Edition; First Printing. Slight shelf wear to base of spine of unclipped DJ, spine corners light bumped, paper starting to tone. ; Green cloth boards with silver gilt lettering to spine. Nice tight copy, no names or marks inside. DJ photograph of Wharfedale by Rick Ossa. ; 224 pages; In Riffa Wood the April dusk was deepening. Cuckoo.cuckoo. The floating notes blended with the faint blue woodsmoke haze of twilight drifting through the trees. A filament of spider silk touched my cheek. As I put up my hand, I sensed its physical warmth. I thought, if that were a briar and scratched my skin my blood would smell of violet. Oh, Christ, it's Spring. Spring, and I ought to be at Wensleydale with Rose. At the age of eight, Ronald Scriven contracted an ear infection that left him almost stone deaf, and - later - was also to make him blind. Yet so intensely were his years of hearing and his years of seeing experienced, so vividly remembered, that they became the wellspring of an entire working life as a poet and radio dramatist.…

Hardcover. Zustand: Very Good+. Zustand des Schutzumschlags: Very Good. First Edition; First Printing. Slight shelf wear to base of spine of unclipped DJ, spine corners light bumped, paper starting to tone. ; Green cloth boards with silver gilt lettering to spine. Nice tight copy, no names or marks inside. DJ photograph of Wharfedale by Rick Ossa. ; 224 pages; In Riffa Wood the April dusk was deepening. Cuckoo.cuckoo. The floating notes blended with the faint blue woodsmoke haze of twilight drifting through the trees. A filament of spider silk touched my cheek. As I put up my hand, I sensed its physical warmth. I thought, if that were a briar and scratched my skin my blood would smell of violet. Oh, Christ, it's Spring. Spring, and I ought to be at Wensleydale with Rose. At the age of eight, Ronald Scriven contracted an ear infection that left him almost stone deaf, and - later - was also to make him blind. Yet so intensely were his years of hearing and his years of seeing experienced, so vividly remembered, that they became the wellspring of an entire working life as a poet and radio dramatist.…