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I Never Saw A Moor, I Never Saw The Sea; Yet Know I How The Heather Looks, And What A Wave Must Be. I Never Spoke With God, Nor Visited In Heaven; Yet Certain Am I Of The Spot, As If A Chart Were Given.

-Emily Dickinson

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I Never Saw A

Emily Dickinson

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I Never Saw A Moor, I Never Saw The Sea; Yet Know I How The Heather Looks, And What A Wave Must Be. I Never Spoke With God, Nor Visited In Heaven; Yet Certain Am I Of The Spot, As If A Chart Were Given.

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Dying Is A Wild Night And A New Road.

Victory Comes Late-- And Is Held Low To Freezing Lips-- Too Rapt With Frost To Take It

Just Girt Me For The Onset With Eternity, When Breath Blew Back, And On The Other Side I Heard Recede The Disappointed Tide!

To Possess Is Past The Instant; We Achieve The Joy, Immortality Contented, Were Anomaly.

Spring's First Conviction Is A Wealth Beyond Its Whole Experience.

My Life Closed Twice Before Its Close

God's Little Blond Blessing We Have Long Deemed You, And Hope His So-called Will Will Not Compel Him To Revoke You.

The Only Secret People Keep Is Immortality.

A Clock Stopped-- Not The Mantel's-- Geneva's Farthest Skill Can't Put The Puppet Bowing-- That Just Now Dangled Still

Those Who Have Not Found The Heaven Below, Will Fail Of It Above.

A Wounded Deer Leaps Highest, I've Heard The Hunter Tell; 'tis But The Ecstasy Of Death, And Then The Brake Is Still. The Smitten Rock That Gushes, The Trampled Steel That Springs,, A Cheek Is Always Redder Just Where The Hectic Stings Mirth Is Mail Of Anguish, In Which Its Cautious Arm Lest Anybody Spy The Blood And, You're Hurt Exclaim.

Publication - Is The Auction Of The Mind.

I Could Not Prove The Years Had Feet-/yet Confident They Run.

I Don't Profess To Be Profound; But I Do Lay Claim To Common Sense.

Words Of Wisdom

A Letter Always Seemed To Me Like Immortality Because It Is The Mind Alone Without Corporeal Friend.

And You Dropt, Lost, When Something Broke-- And Let You From A Dream

Wild Nights – Wild Nights! Were I With Thee Wild Nights Should Be Our Luxury! Futile – The Winds – To A Heart In Port – Done With The Compass – Done With The Chart! Rowing In Eden – Ah, The Sea! Might I Moor – Tonight – In Thee!

How Frugal Is The Chariot That Bears A Human Soul.

The Spider As An Artist Has Never Been Employed- Though His Surpassing Merit Is Freely Certified.

The Older I Grow The More Do I Love Spring And Spring Flowers. Is It So With You?

[a] Mother Is One To Whom You Hurry When You Are Troubled.

Mother Daughter

Knew I How To Pray, To Intercede For Your [broken] Foot Were Intuitive - But I Am But A Pagan.

You'll Find It-when You Try To Die- The Easier To Let Go- For Recollecting Such As Went- You Could Not Spare-you Know.

I Confess That I Love Him, I Rejoice That I Love Him, I Thank The Maker Of Heaven And Earth That Gave Him To Me. The Exultation Floods Me.

You Ask Of My Companions. Hills, Sir, And The Sundown, And A Dog As Large As Myself.

She Died--this Was The Way She Died; And When Her Breath Was Done, Took Up Her Simple Wardrobe And Started For The Sun. Her Little Figure At The Gate The Angels Must Have Spied, Since I Could Never Find Her Upon The Mortal Side.

All Things Do Go A-courting, In Earth, Or Sea, Or Air, God Hath Made Nothing Single But Thee In His World So Fair.

We Trust In Plumed Procession For Such The Angels Go Rank After Rank, With Even Feet/and Uniforms Of Snow.

I Do Not Like The Man Who Squanders Life For Fame; Give Me The Man Who Living Makes A Name.

I Would Paint A Portrait Which Would Bring The Tears, Had I Canvas For It, And The Scene Should Be -- Solitude, And The Figures -- Solitude -- And The Lights And Shades, Each A Solitude.

Behold This Little Bane- The Boon Of All Alive- As Common As It Is Unknown The Name Of It Is Love.

Pain - Has An Element Of Blank It Cannot Recollect When It Begun - Or If There Were A Time When It Was Not - It Has No Future - But Itself - Its Infinite Contain Its Past - Enlightened To Perceive New Periods - Of Pain.

She Dealt Her Pretty Words Like Blades -- How Glittering They Shone -- And Every One Unbared A Nerve Or Wantoned With A Bone -- She Never Deemed -- She Hurt -- That -- Is Not Steel's Affair -- A Vulgar Grimace In The Flesh -- How Ill The Creatures Bear -- To Ache Is Human -- Not Polite -- The Film Upon The Eye Mortality's Old Custom -- Just Locking Up -- To Die.

The Brain - Is Wider Than The Sky - For - Put Them Side By Side - The One The Other Will Contain With Ease - And You - Beside - The Brain Is Deeper Than The Sea - For- Hold Them - Blue To Blue - The One The Other Will Absorb - As Sponges - Buckets - Do - The Brain Is Just The Weight Of God - For - Heft Them - Pound For Pound - And They Will Differ - If They Do - As Syllable From Sound.

Truth Is So Rare That It Is Delightful To Tell It.

For Each Ecstatic Instant We Must An Anguish Pay In Keen And Quivering Ratio To The Ecstasy.

So Proud She Was To Die It Made Us All Ashamed That What We Cherished, So Unknown To Her Desire Seemed. So Satisfied To Go Where None Of Us Should Be, Immediately, That Anguish Stooped Almost To Jealousy.

To Multiply The Harbors Does Not Reduce The Sea.

You Left Me Boundaries Of Pain Capacious As The Sea, Between Eternity And Time, Your Consciousness And Me.

Forever Is Composed Of Nows.

I Lost A World The Other Day. Has Anybody Found? You'll Know It By The Rows Of Stars Around It's Forehead Bound. A Rich Man Might Not Notice It; Yet To My Frugal Eye Of More Esteem Than Ducats. Oh! Find It, Sir, For Me!

I Never Saw A Moor, I Never Saw The Sea; Yet Know I How The Heather Looks, And What A Wave Must Be. I Never Spoke With God, Nor Visited In Heaven; Yet Certain Am I Of The Spot, As If A Chart Were Given.

Forever - Is Composed Of Nows - 'tis Not A Different Time... Let Months Dissolve In Further Months - And Years - Exhale In Years.

Proud Of My Broken Heart Since Thou Didst Break It, Proud Of The Pain I Did Not Feel Till Thee, Proud Of My Night Since Thou With Moons Dost Slake It, Not To Partake Thy Passion, My Humility.

As Summer Into Autumn Slips And Yet We Sooner Say "the Summer" Than "the Autumn," Lest We Turn The Sun Away, And Almost Count It An Affront The Presence To Concede Of One However Lovely, Not The One That We Have Loved - So We Evade The Charge Of Years On One Attempting Shy The Circumvention Of The Shaft Of Life's Declivity.

There Is No Silence In The Earth - So Silent As That Endured Which Uttered, Would Discourage Nature And Haunt The World.

A Precious, Mouldering Pleasure 't Is, To Meet An Antique Book, In Just The Dress His Century Wore; A Privilege I Think.

Opinion Is A Flitting Thing But Truth Outlasts The Sun.

You Can Stay Young As Long As You Learn.

They Say That 'home Is Where The Heart Is.' I Think It Is Where The House Is, And The Adjacent Buildings.

The Soul Should Always Stand Ajar, Ready To Welcome The Ecstatic Experience.

One Need Not Be A Chamber - To Be Haunted - One Need Not Be A House - The Brain - Has Corridors - Surpassing Material Place - Far Safer, Of A Midnight - Meeting External Ghost - Than An Interior - Confronting - That Cooler - Host. Far Safer, Through An Abbey - Gallop - The Stones A'chase - Than Moonless - One's A'self Encounter - In Lonesome Place - Ourself - Behind Ourself - Concealed - Should Startle - Most.

When A Lover Is A Beggar Abject Is His Knee. When A Lover Is An Owner Different Is He.

I Died For Beauty But Was Scarce Adjusted In The Tomb, When One Who Died For Truth Was Lain In An Adjoining Room. He Questioned Softly Why I Failed? "for Beauty," I Replied. "and I For Truth, The Two Are One; We Brethren Are," He Said. And So, As Kinsmen Met A Night, We Talked Between The Rooms, Until The Moss Had Reached Our Lips, And Covered Up Our Names.

The Spreading Wide My Narrow Hands / To Gather Paradise-.

Beauty Is Not Caused, It Is; Chase It And It Ceases, Chase It Not And It Abides.

I Had Been Hungry All The Years- My Noon Had Come, To Dine- I, Trembling, Drew The Table Near And Touched The Curious Wine. 'twas This On Tables I Had Seen When Turning, Hungry, Lone, I Looked In Windows, For The Wealth I Could Not Hope To Own. I Did Not Know The Ample Bread, 'twas So Unlike The Crumb The Birds And I Had Often Shared In Nature's Diningroom. The Plenty Hurt Me, 'twas So New,-- Myself Felt Ill And Odd, As Berry Of A Mountain Bush Transplanted To The Road. Nor Was I Hungry; So I Found That Hunger Was A Way Of Persons Outside Windows, The Entering Takes Away.

I Dwell In Possibility.

Death Is A Supple Suitor, That Wins At Last. It Is A Stealthy Wooing; Conducted First By Pallid Innuendos And Dim Approach, But Brave At Last With Bugles.

There Is A Pain So Utter, It Swallows Being Up; The Covers The Abyss With A Trance So Memory Can Step Around, Across, Upon It.

The Things That Never Can Come Back, Are Several - Childhood - Some Forms Of Hope - The Dead.

Hope Is The Thing With Feathers That Perches In The Soul, And Sings The Tune Without The Words, And Never Stops At All, And Sweetest In The Gale Is Heard; And Sore Must Be The Storm That Could Abash The Little Bird That Kept So Many Warm. I've Heard It In The Chilliest Land And On The Strangest Sea; Yet, Never, In Extremity, It Asked A Crumb Of Me.

It Might Be Lonelier Without The Loneliness - I’m So Accustomed To My Fate - Perhaps The Other - Peace - Would Interrupt The Dark - And Crowd The Little Room - Too Scant - By Cubits - To Contain The Sacrament - Of Him - I Am Not Used To Hope - It Might Intrude Upon - Its Sweet Parade - Blaspheme The Place - Ordained To Suffering - It Might Be Easier To Fail - With Land In Sight - Than Gain - My Blue Peninsula - To Perish - Of Delight -

Heart, We Will Forget Him! You And I, To-night! You May Forget The Warmth He Gave, I Will Forget The Light. When You Have Done, Pray Tell Me, That I My Thoughts May Dim; Haste! Lest While You’re Lagging, I May Remember Him!

There's A Certain Slant Of Light, On Winter Afternoons, That Oppresses, Like The Weight Of Cathedral Tunes.

Remorse Is Memory Awake.

When Everything That Ticked Has Stopped, And Space Stares, All Around, Or Grisly Frosts, First Autumn Morns, Repeal The Beating Ground.

I Have A Bird In Spring Which For Myself Doth Sing - The Spring Decoys. And As The Summer Nears - And As The Rose Appears, Robin Is Gone. Yet Do I Not Repine Knowing That Bird Of Mine Though Flown - Learneth Beyond The Sea Melody New For Me And Will Return.

Longing Is Like A Seed That Wrestles In The Ground

Lest I Should Be Old-fashioned, I'll Put A Trinket On.

Which Anguish Was The Utterest--then-- To Perish, Or To Live?

Hope Is The Thing With Feathers That Perches In The Soul - And Sings The Tunes Without The Words - And Never Stops At All.

Beauty Is Not The Cause Of Something, It Is What It Is.

It Is What It Is

That No Flake Of [snow] Fall On You Or Them - Is A Wish That Would Be A Prayer, Were Emily Not A Pagan.

Phosphorescence. Now There's A Word To Lift Your Hat To... To Find That Phosphorescence, That Light Within, That's The Genius Behind Poetry.

We Never Know We Go When We Are Going- We Jest And Shut The Door- Fate-following-behind Us Bolts It- And We Accost No More-.

I Am Out With Lanterns, Looking For Myself.

A Color Stands Abroad On Solitary Hills That Silence Cannot Overtake, But Human Nature Feels.

Morning Without You Is A Dwindled Dawn.

Saying Nothing... Sometimes Says The Most.

The Morning After Woe- Tis Frequently The Way- Surpasses All That Rose Before- For Utter Jubilee-.

A Power Of Butterfly Must Be - The Aptitude To Fly Meadows Of Majesty Concedes And Easy Sweeps Of Sky -

A Little Madness In The Spring Is Wholesome Even For The King, But God Be With The Clown, Who Ponders This Tremendous Scene-- This Whole Experiment In Green, As If It Were His Own!

To Venerate The Simple Days Which Lead The Seasons By, Needs But To Remember That From You Or I They May Take The Trifle Termed Mortality!

I Argue Thee That Love Is Life. And Life Hath Immortality.

I See Thee Better In The Dark, I Do Not Need A Light. The Love Of Thee A Prism Be Excelling Violet. I See Thee Better For The Years That Hunch Themselves Between, The Miner’s Lamp Sufficient Be To Nullify The Mine. And In The Grave I See Thee Best— Its Little Panels Be A-glow, All Ruddy With The Light I Held So High For Thee! What Need Of Day To Those Whose Dark Hath So Surpassing Sun, It Seem It Be Continually At The Meridian?

The Dandelion's Pallid Tube Astonishes The Grass, And Winter Instantly Becomes An Infinite Alas.

Longing, It May Be, Is The Gift No Other Gift Supplies.

To Live Is So Startling It Leaves Little Time For Anything Else.

The Soul Selects Her Own Society.

Some Arrows Slay But Whom They Strike - But This Slew All But Him - Who So Appareled His Escape - Too Trackless For A Tomb

We Never Know How High We Are Till We Are Called To Rise. Then If We Are True To Form Our Statures Touch The Skies.

Speech Is One Symptom Of Affection; And Silence One; The Perfect Communication Is Heard Of None.

The Pleading Of The Summer - That Other Prank - Of Snow - That Cushions Mystery With Tulle, For Fear The Squirrels - Know.

Twin Loaves Of Bread Have Just Been Born Into The World Under My Auspices. Fine Children, The Image Of Their Mother. And Here, My Dear Friend, Is The Glory.

My Faith Is Larger Than The Hills— So When The Hills Decay— My Faith Must Take The Purple Wheel To Show The Sun The Way— 'tis First He Steps Upon The Vane— And Then — Upon The Hill— And Then Abroad The World He Go To Do His Golden Will— And If His Yellow Feet Should Miss— The Bird Would Not Arise— The Flowers Would Slumber On Their Stems— No Bells Have Paradise— How Dare I, Therefore, Stint A Faith On Which So Vast Depends— Lest Firmament Should Fail For Me— The Rivet In The Bands

There's A Certain Slant Of Light, Winter Afternoons— That Oppresses, Like The Heft Of Cathedral Tunes— Heavenly Hurt, It Gives Us— We Can Find No Scar, But Internal Difference, Where The Meanings, Are.... When It Comes, The Landscape Listens— Shadows—hold Their Breath— When It Goes, 'tis Like The Distance On The Look Of Death.

Bring Me The Sunset In A Cup.

I Felt It Shelter To Speak To You.

I Could Not Stop For Death And He Did Not Stop For Me.

You Remember My Ideal Cat Has Always A Huge Rat In Its Mouth, Just Going Out Of Sight - Though Going Out Of Sight In Itself Has A Peculiar Pleasure.

Mirth Is The Mail Of Anguish --

The Lovely Flowers Embarrass Me. They Make Me Regret I Am Not A Bee.

The Spirit Lurks Within The Flesh Like Tides Within The Sea That Make The Water Live, Estranged What Would The Either Be?

Pain Has An Element Of Blank

The Friend Anguish Reveals Is The Slowest Forgot.

Love Is Like Life-merely Longer.

To Make A Prairie It Takes A Clover And One Bee, One Clover, And A Bee, And Revery. The Revery Alone Will Do, If Bees Are Few.

Enough Is So Vast A Sweetness I Suppose It Never Occurs.

They Say That “time Assuages” - Time Never Did Assuage - An Actual Suffering Strengthens As Sinews Do, With Age - Time Is A Test Of Trouble - But Not A Remedy - If Such It Prove, It Prove Too There Was No Malady

What Soft--cherubic Creatures-- These Gentlewomen Are-- One Would As Soon Assault A Plush-- Or Violate A Star

Exultation Is The Going Of An Inland Soul To Sea Past The Houses, Past The Headlands Into Deep Eternity! Bred As We, Among The Mountains Can The Sailor Understand The Divine Intoxication Of The First League Out From Land?

Finite To Fail, But Infinite To Venture.

It Is True That The Unknown Is The Largest Need Of The Intellect, Though For It, No One Thinks To Thank God.

How Strange That Nature Does Not Knock, And Yet Does Not Intrude!

The Brain Is Wider Than The Sky.

The Hearts That Never Lean Must Fall.

Further In Summer Than The Birds Pathetic From The Grass A Minor Nation Celebrates Its Unobtrusive Mass. No Ordinance Be Seen So Gradual The Grace A Pensive Custom It Becomes Enlarging Loneliness. Antiquest Felt At Noon When August Burning Low Arise This Spectral Canticle Repose To Typify Remit As Yet No Grace No Furrow On The Glow Yet A Druidic Difference Enhances Nature Now.

A Wounded Deer Leaps The Highest.

Forever Is Made Up Of Nows.

Dare You See A Soul At The White Heat?

Within Thy Grave! Oh No, But On Some Other Flight - Thou Only Camest To Mankind To Rend It With Good Night

How Happy Is The Little Stone That Rambles In The Road Alone, And Doesn't Care About Careers, And Exigencies Never Fears; Whose Coat Of Elemental Brown A Passing Universe Put On; And Independent As The Sun, Associates Or Glows Alone, Fulfilling Absolute Decree In Casual Simplicity.

A Light Exists In Spring Not Present In The Year At Any Other Period When March Is Scarcely Here.

Our Journey Had Advanced; Our Feet Were Almost Come To That Odd Fork In Being's Road, Eternity By Term.

Renunciation-is A Piercing Virtue-the Letting Go A Presence-for An Expectation-.

I Would Like More Sisters, That The Taking Out Of One, Might Not Leave Such Stillness.

Spring Is The Period Express From God.

I Cannot Live With You, It Would Be Life, And Life Is Over There Behind The Shelf

Where Thou Art, That Is Home.

My Life Had Stood - A Loaded Gun - In Corners - Till A Day The Owner Passed - Identified - And Carried Me Away -

To Shut Your Eyes Is To Travel.

She Rose To His Requirement, Dropped The Playthings Of Her Life To Take The Honorable Work Of Woman And Of Wife.

They Might Not Need Me; But They Might. I'll Let My Head Be Just In Sight; A Smile As Small As Mine Might Be Precisely Their Necessity.

The Soul Unto Itself Is An Imperial Friend, - Or The Most Agonizing Spy - An Enemy - Could Send -

Write Me Of Hope And Love, And Hearts That Endured.

How Lucious Lies The Pea Within The Pod.

A Word Is Dead When It Is Said, Some Say. I Say It Just Begins To Live That Day.

Sweet Skepticism Of The Heart That Knows And Does Not Know And Tosses Like A Fleet Of Balm Affronted By The Snow.

Grant Me, O Lord, A Sunny Mind-thy Windy Will To Bear!

Eternity' Is There, We Say, As Of A Station. Meanwhile, He Is So Near, He Joins Me In My Ramble? Divides Abode With Me? No Friend Have I That So Persists As This Eternity.

I Dwell In Possibilities .

When We Think Of His Lone Effort To Live And Its Bleak Reward, The Mind Turns To The Myth "for His Mercy Endureth Forever," With Confiding Revulsion.

Drab Habitation Of Whom? Tabernacle Or Tomb - Or Dome Of Worm - Or Porch Of Gnome - Or Some Elf's Catacomb?

My Best Acquaintances Are Those With Whom I Spoke No Word

Just A Turn Of The Doorknob, And There Lies Freedom.

This So Much Joy! This So Much Joy! If I Should Fail, What Poverty! And Yet, As Poor As I Have Ventured All Upon A Throw; Have Gained! Yes! Hesitated So This Side The Victory!

After Great Pain, A Formal Feeling Comes. The Nerves Sit Ceremonious, Like Tombs.

My Friends Are My Estate. Forgive Me Then The Avarice To Hoard Them!

The Heart Asks Pleasure--first-- And Then--excuse From Pain

If I Read A Book And It Makes My Whole Body So Cold No Fire Can Ever Warm Me, I Know That Is Poetry.

The Past Is Such A Curious Creature To Look Her In The Face A Transport May Receipt Us Or A Disgrace-.

Our Little Kinsmen After Rain In Plenty May Be Seen, A Pink And Pulpy Multitude The Tepid Ground Upon; A Needless Life If Seemed To Me Until A Little Bird As To A Hospitality Advanced And Breakfasted.

Much Madness Is Divinest Sense -- To A Discerning Eye -- Much Sense -- The Starkest Madness -- 'tis The Majority In This, As All, Prevail -- Assent -- And You Are Sane -- Demur -- You're Straightway Dangerous -- And Handled With A Chain --

Endow The Living - With The Tears - You Squander On The Dead.

Till I Loved I Never Lived.

Noon - Is The Hinge Of Day-.

I Started Early, Took My Dog, And Visited The Sea; The Mermaids In The Basement Came Out To Look At Me

Behavior Is What A Man Does, Not What He Thinks, Feels, Or Believes.

Pardon My Sanity In A World Insane

The Truth Must Dazzle Gradually Or Every Man Be Blind.

There Is A Zone Whose Even Years No Solstice Interrupt - Whose Sun Constructs Perpetual Noon Whose Perfect Seasons Wait - Whose Summer Set In Summer, Till The Centuries Of June And Centuries Of August Cease And Consciousness - Is Noon.

Those Who Lift Their Hats Shall See Nature As Devout Do God.

Positive Atheism

A Murmur In The Trees - To Note - Not Loud Enough - For Wind - A Star - Not Far Enough To Seek - Nor Near Enough - To Find

The Heart Asks Pleasure First, And Then, Excuse From Pain; And Then, Those Little Anodynes That Deaden Suffering; And Then, To Go To Sleep; And Then, If It Should Be The Will Of Its Inquisitor, The Liberty To Die.

One Need Not Be A Chamber To Be Haunted; One Need Not Be A House; The Brain Has Corridors Surpassing Material Place.

Love Is Everything. And That's All We Know About It.

If I Can Stop One Heart From Breaking…” Emily Dickinson If I Can Stop One Heart From Breaking, I Shall Not Live In Vain; If I Can Ease One Life The Aching, Or Cool One Pain, Or Help One Fainting Robin Unto His Nest Again, I Shall Not Live In Vain.

I Am One Of The Lingering Bad Ones, And So Do I Slink Away, And Pause, And Ponder, And Ponder, And Pause, And Do Work Without Knowing Why - Not Surely For This Brief World, And More Sure It Is Not For Heaven - And I Ask What This Message Of Christ Means.

I Am Nobody! Who Are You? Are You A Nobody, Too?

The Heart Is The Capital Of The Mind— The Mind Is A Single State— The Heart And The Mind Together Make A Single Continent— One—is The Population— Numerous Enough— This Ecstatic Nation Seek—it Is Yourself.

A Shady Friend For Torrid Days Is Easier To Find Than One Of Higher Temperature For Frigid Hour Of Mind.

The Past Is Not A Package One Can Lay Away.

The Heart Wants What It Wants - Or Else It Does Not Care

This World Is Not Conclusion. A Sequel Stands Beyond- Invisible, As Music- But Positive, As Sound.

Not Knowing When The Dawn Will Come I Open Every Door.

The Loneliness One Dare Not Sound -- And Would As Soon Surmise As In Its Grave Go Plumbing To Ascertain The Size -- The Loneliness Whose Worst Alarm Is Lest Itself Should See -- And Perish From Before Itself For Just A Scrutiny -- The Horror Not To Be Surveyed -- But Skirted In The Dark -- With Consciousness Suspended -- And Being Under Lock -- I Fear Me This -- Is Loneliness -- The Maker Of The Soul Its Caverns And Its Corridors Illuminate -- Or Seal

To Lose Ones Faith-surpass The Loss Of An Estate- Because Estates Can Be Replenished- Faith Cannot-.

In The Name Of The Bee And Of The Butterfly And Of The Breeze, Amen!

One Step At A Time Is All It Takes To Get You There.

One Step At A Time

If I Feel Physically As If The Top Of My Head Were Taken Off, I Know That Is Poetry.

For Love Is Immortality.

Celebrity Is The Chastisement Of Merit And The Punishment Of Talent.

Banish Air From Air Divide Light If You Dare

My Life Closed Twice Before Its Close; It Yet Remains To See If Immortality Unveil A Third Event To Me, So Huge, So Hopeless To Conceive, As These That Twice Befell. Parting Is All We Know Of Heaven, And All We Need Of Hell.

In This Short Life That Only Lasts Ah Hour How Much-how Little-is Within Our Power.

The Bustle In A House The Morning After Death Is Solemnest Of Industries Enacted Upon Earth,-- The Sweeping Up The Heart, And Putting Love Away We Shall Not Want To Use Again Until Eternity

What Will The Solemn Hemlock- What Will The Oak Tree Say?

Love Is Like The Wild Rose-briar; Friendship Like The Holly-tree. The Holly Is Dark When The Rose-briar Blooms, But Which Will Bloom Most Constantly? The Wild Rose-briar Is Sweet In Spring ,its Summer Blossoms Scent The Air; Yet Wait Till Winter Comes Again, And Who Will Call The Wild-briar Fair? Then, Scorn The Silly Rose-wreath Now, And Deck Thee With Holly's Sheen, That, When December Blights Thy Brow, He Still May Leave Thy Garland Green.

His Cheek Is His Biographer- As Long As He Can Blush.

Take All Away From Me, But Leave Me Ecstasy, And I Am Richer Then Than All My Fellow Men-.

It Is Easy To Work When The Soul Is At Play.

Not If Their Party Were Waiting, Not If To Talk With Me Were To Them Now, Homesickness After Eternity.

I Hope You're Very Careful Working, Eating And Drinking When The Heat Is So Great--there Are Temptations There Which At Home You Are Free From--beware The Juicy Fruits, And The Cooling Ades, And Cordials, And Do Not Eat Ice-cream, It Is So Very Dangerous.

November Always Seemed To Me The Norway Of The Year.

He Ate And Drank The Precious Words, His Spirit Grew Robust; He Knew No More That He Was Poor, Nor That His Frame Was Dust.

Nature Is What We Know - Yet Have Not Art To Say - So Impotent Our Wisdom Is To Her Simplicity.

The Brain Is Just The Weight Of God-- For--heft Them--pound For Pound-- And They Will Differ--if They Do-- As Syllable From Sound

A Charm Invests A Face Imperfectly Beheld,— The Lady Dare Not Lift Her Veil For Fear It Be Dispelled. But Peers Beyond Her Mesh, And Wishes, And Denies,— Lest Interview Annul A Want That Image Satisfies.

Earth Is A Merry Damsel, And Heaven A Knight So True

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