I Argue Thee That Love Is Life.

I See Thee Better In The Dark, I Do Not Need A Light. The Love Of Thee A Prism Be Excelling Violet. I See Thee Better For The Years That Hunch Themselves Between, The Miner’s Lamp Sufficient Be To Nullify The Mine. And In The Grave I See Thee Best— Its Little Panels Be A-glow, All Ruddy With The Light I Held So High For Thee! What Need Of Day To Those Whose Dark Hath So Surpassing Sun, It Seem It Be Continually At The Meridian?

We Must Be Careful What We Say. No Bird Resumes Its Egg.

Longing Is Like A Seed That Wrestles In The Ground

A Little Madness In The Spring Is Wholesome Even For The King.

The Past Is Such A Curious Creature To Look Her In The Face A Transport May Receipt Us Or A Disgrace-.