The Heart Asks Pleasure--first-- And Then--excuse From

A Bayonet's Contrition Is Nothing To The Dead.

You Remember My Ideal Cat Has Always A Huge Rat In Its Mouth, Just Going Out Of Sight - Though Going Out Of Sight In Itself Has A Peculiar Pleasure.

The Heart Wants What It Wants - Or Else It Does Not Care

The Bustle In A House The Morning After Death Is Solemnest Of Industries Enacted Upon Earth,-- The Sweeping Up The Heart, And Putting Love Away We Shall Not Want To Use Again Until Eternity

A Word Is Dead When It Is Said, Some Say. I Say It Just Begins To Live That Day.