I imagine therefore I belong and am free.
How frugal is the chariot that bears a human soul.
Sunrise: day’s great progenitor.
The hearts that never lean must fall.
We meet no Stranger, but Ourself.
A shady friend for torrid days Is easier to find Than one of higher temperature For frigid hour of mind.
When everything that ticked has stopped, and space stares, all around, or grisly frosts, first autumn morns, repeal the beating ground.
Prosperity Whose sources are interior. As soon Adversity A diamond overtake.
The Morning after Woe- Tis frequently the Way- Surpasses all that rose before- For utter Jubilee-.
Angels in the early morning may be seen the dews among. Stooping, plucking, smiling, flying. Do the buds to them belong?
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!
To ignore or use silence is a cruel tool. Hence this quote: Silence is all we dread; there’s ransom in a voice; but silence is infinity.
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.
I could not stop for death and he did not stop for me.
Hope is a strange invention – A Patent of the Heart – In unremitting action Yet never wearing out.
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!
We must be careful what we say. No bird resumes its egg.
Drab Habitation of Whom? Tabernacle or Tomb – or Dome of Worm – or Porch of Gnome – or some Elf’s Catacomb?
For each ecstatic instant We must an anguish pay In keen and quivering ratio To the ecstasy.
What will the solemn Hemlock- What will the Oak tree say?