We dream — it is good we are dreaming — It would hurt us — were we awake — But since it is playing — kill us, And we are playing — shriek — What harm? Men die — externally — It is a truth — of Blood — But we — are dying in Drama — And Drama — is never dead — Cautious — We jar each other — And either — open the eyes — Lest the Phantasm — prove the Mistake — And the livid Surprise Cool us to Shafts of Granite — With just an Age — and Name — And perhaps a phrase in Egyptian — It's prudenter — to dream —

Judge tenderly of me.

Nothing is the force that renovates the World.

The dearest ones of time, the strongest friends of the soul--BOOKS.

One need not be a chamber to be haunted.

The soul selects her own society, Then shuts the door; On her divine majority Obtrude no more.

To lose what we have never owned might seem an eccentric bereavement, but Presumption has its own affliction as well as claim.