To Travel Far, There Is No Better

Safe Despair It Is That Raves- Agony Is Frugal. Puts Itself Severe Away For Its Own Perusal.

Till It Has Loved, No Man Or Woman Can Become Itself.

The Appetite For Silence Is Seldom An Acquired Taste.

Some Arrows Slay But Whom They Strike - But This Slew All But Him - Who So Appareled His Escape - Too Trackless For A Tomb

I Confess That I Love Him, I Rejoice That I Love Him, I Thank The Maker Of Heaven And Earth That Gave Him To Me. The Exultation Floods Me.