We are all ruled in what we do by impulses; and these impulses are so organized that our actions in general serve for our self preservation and that of the race.

Night falls fast. Today is in the past.

After all my erstwhile dear, my no longer cherished; Need we say it was not love, just because it perished?

Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell.

pity me that the heart is slow to learn what the swift mind beholds at every turn.

I, being born a woman and distressed By all the needs and notions of my kind.

Stranger, pause and look; From the dust of ages Lift this little book, Turn the tattered pages, Read me, do not let me die! Search the fading letters finding Steadfast in the broken binding All that once was I!