<<"Divan" is one of the most complicated words I know>>

And on the lips of fallen belles impostured in the North, on the Great White Way, it had the ring once of deific metaphor of that something--anything--someone jaded less, less sordid sorrowed, might in broken memory have named: "Good" -- or she, the footlit ghost of that abandoned sister on fetid gulf, in all her fragile inwardness forever always, unpeeled, "It was, my love, divan."