When I Have Fears That I May

On A Lone Winter Evening, When The Frost Has Wrought A Silence.

The World Is Too Brutal For Me-i Am Glad There Is Such A Thing As The Grave-i Am Sure I Shall Never Have Any Rest Till I Get There.

Scenery Is Fine - But Human Nature Is Finer.

Talking Of Pleasure, This Moment I Was Writing With One Hand, And With The Other Holding To My Mouth A Nectarine - How Good How Fine. It Went Down All Pulpy, Slushy, Oozy, All Its Delicious Embonpoint Melted Down My Throat Like A Large, Beatified Strawberry.

Who Would Wish To Be Among The Commonplace Crowd Of The Little Famous - Who Are Each Individually Lost In A Throng Made Up Of Themselves?