A Person Who Publishes A Book Willfully

Progress-progress Is The Dirtiest Word In The Language-who Ever Told Us- And Made Us Believe It-that To Take A Step Forward Was Necessarily, Was Always A Good Idea?

For The Body At Best Is A Bundle Of Aches, Longing For Rest; It Cries When It Wakes.

Childhood Is The Kingdom Where Nobody Dies.

If Ever I Said In Grief Or Pride, I'd Tired Of Honest Things, I Lied.

I Would I Were Alive Again To Kiss The Fingers Of The Rain, To Drink Into My Eyes The Shine Of Every Slanting Silver Line, To Catch The Freshened, Fragrant Breeze From Drenched And Dripping Apple-trees. For Soon The Shower Will Be Done, And Then The Broad Face Of The Sun Will Laugh Above The Rain-soaked Earth Until The World With Answering Mirth Shakes Joyously, And Each Round Drop Rolls Twinkling, From Its Grass-blade Top.