A Wounded Deer Leaps The Highest.

I Have An Appetite For Silence.

It Is Finished, Is Never Said Of Us

You Cannot Put A Fire Out! A Thing That Can Ignite Can Go Itself- Without A Flame- E'en Through The Darkest Night!

Anger As Soon As Fed Is Dead- 'tis Starving Makes It Fat.

I . . . Am Small, Like The Wren, And My Hair Is Bold Like The Chestnut Burr; And My Eyes Like The Sherry In The Glass That The Guest Leaves.