I wish you a kinder sea.
To attempt to speak of what has been, would be impossible. Abyss has no Biographer -.
The heart asks pleasure first, And then, excuse from pain.
Life is death we’re lengthy at.
The Dark – felt beautiful –.
I am very busy picking up stems and stamens as the hollyhocks leave their clothes around.
If I wasn’t a perfect woman, I’d bust you in the nose.
I need you more and more, and the great world grows wider, and dear ones fewer and fewer, every day that you stay away. My heart goes wandering around and calls for Susie... My heart is full of you; none other than you are in my thoughts, yet when I seek to say to you something not for the world, words fail me. If you were here, we need not talk at all for our eyes would whisper for us and, your hand fast in mine, we would not ask for language.
It’s a great thing to be “great,” Loo, and you and I might tug for a life, and never accomplish it, but no one can stop our looking on, and you know some cannot sing, but the orchard is full of birds, and we all can listen. What if we learn, ourselves, some day!
It is strange that the most intangible thing is the most adhesive.
Oh Susie, I often think that I will try to tell you how very dear you are, and how I’m watching for you, but the words won’t come, though the tears will, and I sit down disappointed. Yet, darling, you know it all – then why do I seek to tell you? I do not know. In thinking of those I love, my reason is all gone from me, and I do fear sometimes that I must make a hospital for the hopelessly insane, and chain myself up there so I won’t injure you.
My Country is Truth.
Opinion is a flitting thing, but the truth outlasts the sun.
The smitten rock that gushes, The trampled steel that springs; A cheek is always redder Just where the hectic stings!
Consciousness is the only home of which we know.
Split the Lark – and you’ll find the Music, Bulb after Bulb, in Silver rolled.
We all have moments with the dust, but the dew is given.
Let us strive together to part with time more reluctantly, to watch the pinions of the fleeting moment until they are dim in the distance, and the new-coming moment claims our attention.
I tell her we all shall fly so soon, not to let it grieve her, and what indeed is Earth but a Nest, from whose rim we are all falling?
BEQUEST. You left me, sweet, two legacies, – A legacy of love A Heavenly Father would content, Had He the offer of; You left me boundaries of pain Capacious as the sea, Between eternity and time, Your consciousness and me.