Sorrow Like A Ceaseless Rain Beats Upon

Soar, Eat Ether, See What Has Never Been Seen; Depart, Be Lost, But Climb.

We Were So Wholly One I Had Not Thought That We Could Die Apart. I Had Not Thought That I Could Move,—and You Be Stiff And Still! That I Could Speak,—and You Perforce Be Dumb! I Think Our Heart-strings Were, Like Warp And Woof In Some Firm Fabric, Woven In And Out; Your Golden Filaments In Fair Design Across My Duller Fibre.

I Am Not Resigned To The Shutting Away Of Loving Hearts In The Hard Ground.

Although We Sometimes Did Without A Few Of Life's Necessities, We Rarely Lacked For Its Luxuries.

This Book, When I Am Dead, Will Be A Little Faint Perfume Of Me. People Who Knew Me Well Will Say, She Really Used To Think That Way.