How Softly Summer Shuts, Without The Creaking

Fame Is A Bee It Has A Song - It Has A Sting - Ah, Too, It Has A Wing.

I Miss The Grasshoppers Much, But Suppose It Is All For The Best. I Should Become Too Much Attached To A Trotting World.

Hope Is The Thing With Feathers That Perches In The Soul.

The Truth Dazzles Gradually, Or Else The World Would Be Blind.

A Word That Breathes Distinctly Has Not The Power To Die