Hope Is A Thing With Feathers

When He Tells Us About His Father, We Distrust Him. When He Shows Us His Home, We Turn Away, But When He Confides To Us That He Is Acquainted With Grief, We Listen, For That Also Is An Acquaintance Of Our Own.

The Soul Selects Her Own Society.

I Imagine Therefore I Belong And Am Free.

Tis Not That Dieing Hurts Us So- Tis Living- Hurts Us More.

The Dearest Ones Of Time, The Strongest Friends Of The Soul--books.