Let The Black Flower Blossom As It

Life, Within Doors, Has Few Pleasanter Prospects Than A Neatly-arranged And Well-provisioned Breakfast-table.

Keep The Imagination Sane--that Is One Of The Truest Conditions Of Communion With Heaven.

The World, That Grey-bearded And Wrinkled Profligate, Decrepit, Without Being Venerable.

Death Is So Genuine A Fact That It Excludes Falsehoods, Or Betrays Its Emptiness; It Is A Touchstone That Proves The Gold, And Dishonors The Baser Metal.

A Pure Hand Needs No Glove To Cover It.