I had no time to hate, because The grave would hinder me, And life was not so ample I Could finish enmity Nor had I time to love: but since Some industry must be, The little toil of love, I thought, Was large enough for me.

THE soul should always stand ajar, That if the heaven inquire, He will not be obliged to wait, Or shy of troubling her. Depart, before the host has slid The bolt upon the door, To seek for the accomplished guest, -- Her visitor no more.

Common sense is almost as omniscient as God.

I miss the grasshoppers much, but suppose it is all for the best. I should become too much attached to a trotting world.

My Life had stood - a Loaded Gun - In Corners - till a Day The Owner passed - identified - And carried Me away -

God's little Blond Blessing we have long deemed you, and hope his so-called Will will not compel him to revoke you.

A Word that Breathes Distinctly Has not the Power to Die