Eden Is That Old-fashioned House We Dwell

Suspense-is Hostiler Than Death-death- Tho Soever Broad, Is Just Death, And Cannot Increase- Suspense-does Not Conclude-.

A Little Madness In The Spring Is Wholesome Even For The King.

If I Feel Physically As If The Top Of My Head Were Taken Off, I Know That Is Poetry.

Morning Without You Is A Dwindled Dawn.

Life Is A Spell So Exquisite That Everything Conspires To Break It.