Silence Is Of Different Kinds, And Breathes

You, Jane, I Must Have You For My Own--entirely My Own.

Liberty Lends Us Her Wings And Hope Guides Us By Her Star.

He Was The First To Recognise Me, And To Love What He Saw.

I Would Not Be You For A Kingdom.' The Remark Was Too Naïve To Rouse Anger; I Merely Said - 'very Good.' 'and What Would You Give To Be Me?' She Inquired. 'not A Bad Sixpence - Strange As It May Sound', I Replied. 'you Are But A Poor Creature.' 'you Don't Think So In Your Heart.' 'no; For In My Heart You Have Not The Outline Of A Place: I Only Occasionally Turn You Over In My Brain.

Your Station Is In My Heart, And On The Necks Of Those Who Would Insult You.