Death: The Anaesthetic From Which None Come

My Age Fallen Away Like White Swaddling Floats In The Middle Distance, Becomes An Inhabited Cloud.

A Good Meal Can Somewhat Repair / The Eatings Of Slight Love

Death Is No Different Whined At Than Withstood.

Living In England Has No Such Excuse: These Are My Customs And Establishments.

But, O, Photography! As No Art Is,faithful And Disappointing! That Recordsdull Days As Dull, And Hold-it Smiles As Frauds,and Will Not Censor Blemishes,like Washing-lines, And Hall's-distemper Boards