You don't have to be a house to be haunted.

I am out with lanterns, looking for myself.

The lovely flowers embarrass me. They make me regret I am not a bee.

How happy is the little stone That rambles in the road alone, And doesn't care about careers, And exigencies never fears; Whose coat of elemental brown A passing universe put on; And independent as the sun, Associates or glows alone, Fulfilling absolute decree In casual simplicity.

There is always one thing to be grateful for - that one is one's self and not somebody else.

I stepped from plank to plank So slow and cautiously; The stars about my head I felt, About my feet the sea. I knew not but the next Would be my final inch,— This gave me that precarious gait Some call experience.

Opinion is a fitting thing but truth outlasts the sun - if then we cannot own them both, possess the oldest one.