I wonder if it hurts to live, And if they have to try, And whether, could they choose between, They would not rather die.
My love for those I love -- not many -- not very many, but don't I love them so?
Love can do all but raise the Dead.
Opinion is a fitting thing but truth outlasts the sun - if then we cannot own them both, possess the oldest one.
The steeples swam in amethyst, the news like squirrels swam.
The things of which we want the proof are those we know the best.