Exists no miracle mightier than this: to feel.
they believe in Christ and Longfellow, both dead
twice I have lived forever in a smile
Your slightest look easily will unclose me, though I have closed myself as fingers, you open petal by petal myself a Spring opens her first rose.
Yours is the light by which my spirit's born: - you are my sun, my moon, and all my stars.
If 180 million people want to be undead, that’s their funeral, but I happen to like being alive.