The Truth Never Flaunted A Sign.

My Life Closed Twice Before Its Close; It Yet Remains To See If Immortality Unveil A Third Event To Me, So Huge, So Hopeless To Conceive, As These That Twice Befell. Parting Is All We Know Of Heaven, And All We Need Of Hell.

Not To Discover Weakness Is The Artifice Of Strength.

Hope Is The Thing With Feathers That Perches In The Soul.

I Had A Terror-since September -i Could Tell To None-and So I Sing, As The Boy Does By The Burying Ground-because I Am Afraid.

Love Is Its Own Rescue; For We, At Our Supremest, Are But Its Trembling Emblems.