Beauty is not the cause of something, it is what it is.

To see the Summer Sky Is Poetry, though never in a Book it lie— True Poems flee—

I am nobody! Who are you? Are you a nobody, too?

Somewhere in my soul a thought went up in my mind today that I have had before, but did not finish, some way back, I could not fix the year. Nor where it went, nor why it came the second time to me, nor definetly what it was, have I the art to say. But somewhere in my soul, I know I've met the thing before; it just reminded me-' twas all'-and came my way no more.

I wonder if it hurts to live, And if they have to try, And whether, could they choose between, They would not rather die.

I tasted life.

The truth I do not dare to know I muffle with a jest.