Good Times Are Always Mutual; That Is

I Dwell In Possibilities .

The Soul Selects Her Own Society.

Afraid? Of Whom Am I Afraid? Not Death. For Who Is He?

That No Flake Of [snow] Fall On You Or Them - Is A Wish That Would Be A Prayer, Were Emily Not A Pagan.

The Heart Is The Capital Of The Mind— The Mind Is A Single State— The Heart And The Mind Together Make A Single Continent— One—is The Population— Numerous Enough— This Ecstatic Nation Seek—it Is Yourself.