Of All Escape Mechanisms, Death Is The

Religion Is Using Everything For God.

When Our Children Die, We Drop Them Into The Unknown, Shuddering With Fear. We Know That They Go Out From Us, And We Stand, And Pity, And Wonder.

Heaven Answers With Us The Same Purpose That The Tuning-fork Does With Musicians. Our Affections, The Whole Orchestra Of Them, Are Apt To Get Below The Concert-pitch; And We Take Heaven To Tune Our Hearts By.

Like A Bird She Seems To Wear Gay Plumage Unconsciously, As If It Grew Upon Her.

Some Men Are Like Pyramids, Which Are Very Broad Where They Touch The Ground, But Grow Narrow As They Reach The Sky.