Memory Is A Strange Bell—jubilee, And Knell.

The Only Commandment I Ever Obeyed — 'consider The Lilies.

A Color Stands Abroad On Solitary Hills That Silence Cannot Overtake, But Human Nature Feels.

Enough Is So Vast A Sweetness I Suppose It Never Occurs.

I Have An Appetite For Silence.

Death Is A Supple Suitor, That Wins At Last. It Is A Stealthy Wooing; Conducted First By Pallid Innuendos And Dim Approach, But Brave At Last With Bugles.