I dwell in possibilities... a fairer house than prose.
Love is its own rescue; for we, at our supremest, are but its trembling emblems.
Pain has an element of blank
PHOSPHORESCENCE. Now there's a word to lift your hat to... to find that phosphorescence, that light within, that's the genius behind poetry.
Sunrise: day's great progenitor.
Assent - and you are sane - Demur - and you're straightaway dangerous - and handled with a chain.