When The Poet Died His Cat Was

Perhaps Out There, Somewhere, Someone Is Sighing For Your Absence; And With This Thought, My Soul Begins To Breathe.

For Style Beyond The Genius Never Dares.

I Looked Back At The Summit Of The Mountain, Which Seemed But A Cubit High In Comparison With The Height Of Human Contemplation, Were In Not Too Often Merged In The Corruptions Of The Earth.

Do You Suppose There Is Any Living Man So Unreasonable That If He Found Himself Stricken With A Dangerous Ailment He Would Not Anxiously Desire To Regain The Blessing Of Health?

I Rejoiced In My Progress, Mourned My Weaknesses, And Commiserated The Universal Instability Of Human Conduct.