For 'tis Not In Mere Death That

Books Are Men Of Higher Stature, And The Only Men That Speak Aloud For Future Times To Hear.

And Lilies Are Still Lilies, Pulled By Smutty Hands, Though Spotted From Their White.

Silence Is The Best Response To A Fool.

Earth May Embitter, Not Remove, The Love Divinely Given; And E'en That Mortal Grief Shall Prove The Immortality Of Love, And Lead Us Nearer Heaven.

I, Who Had Had My Heart Full For Hours, Took Advantage Of An Early Moment Of Solitude, To Cry In It Very Bitterly. Suddenly A Little Hairy Head Thrust Itself From Behind My Pillow Into My Face, Rubbing Its Ears And Nose Against Me In A Responsive Agitation, And Drying The Tears As They Came.