The Hearts That Never Lean Must Fall.

A Sick Room Is At Times Too Sacred A Place For A Friend's Knock, Timid As That Is.

I Had No Time To Hate, Because The Grave Would Hinder Me, And Life Was Not So Ample I Could Finish Enmity Nor Had I Time To Love: But Since Some Industry Must Be, The Little Toil Of Love, I Thought, Was Large Enough For Me.

A Word That Breathes Distinctly Has Not The Power To Die

The Revery Alone Will Do If Bees Are Few.

Love Can Do All But Raise The Dead.