He Ate And Drank The Precious Words,

The Brain Is Just The Weight Of God-- For--heft Them--pound For Pound-- And They Will Differ--if They Do-- As Syllable From Sound

God's Unique Capacity Is Too Surprising To Surprise.

Hope Is The Thing With Feathers That Perches In The Soul - And Sings The Tunes Without The Words - And Never Stops At All.

A Light Exists In Spring Not Present On The Year At Any Other Period - When March Is Scarcely Here A Color Stands Abroad On Solitary Fields That Science Cannot Overtake But Human Nature Feels. It Waits Upon The Lawn, It Shows The Furthest Tree Upon The Furthest Slope You Know It Almost Speaks To You. Then As Horizons Step Or Noons Report Away Without The Formula Of Sound It Passes And We Stay - A Quality Of Loss Affecting Our Content As Trade Had Suddenly Encroached Upon A Sacrament.

The Possible's Slow Fuse Is Lit By The Imagination.