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    <![CDATA[There is a story.&#8212;I cannot tell it.&#8212;I have no words. The story is almost forgotten but sometimes I remember.]]>
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    <body><![CDATA[The title story is a powerful one.  Excellent introduction to Anderson for anyone who's unfamiliar.]]></body>
    
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    <![CDATA[There is a story. - I cannot tell it. - I have no words. The story is almost forgotten but sometimes I remember.        The story concerns three men in a house in a street. If I could say the words I would sing the story. I would whisper it into the ears of women, of mothers. I would run through the streets saying it over and over. My tongue would be torn loose - it would rattle against my teeth.          The three men are in a room in the house. One is young and dandified. He continually laughs.         There is a second man who has a long white beard. He is consumed with doubt but occasionally his doubt leaves him and he sleeps.]]>
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    <body><![CDATA[I love stories about freaks, oddities and whispered ugliness of mankind. ]]></body>
    
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    <![CDATA[There is a story. - I cannot tell it. - I have no words. The story is almost forgotten but sometimes I remember.        The story concerns three men in a house in a street. If I could say the words I would sing the story. I would whisper it into the ears of women, of mothers. I would run through the streets saying it over and over. My tongue would be torn loose - it would rattle against my teeth.          The three men are in a room in the house. One is young and dandified. He continually laughs.         There is a second man who has a long white beard. He is consumed with doubt but occasionally his doubt leaves him and he sleeps.]]>
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