MY river runs to thee: Blue sea, wilt welcome me? My river waits reply. Oh sea, look graciously! I ’ll fetch thee brooks From spotted nooks,— Say, sea, Take me!

I am out with lanterns, looking for myself.

Heart, we will forget him, You and I, tonight! You must forget the warmth he gave, I will forget the light.

We never know how high we are till we are called to rise. Then if we are true to form our statures touch the skies.

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

Mirth is the Mail of Anguish --

Beauty is just a light switch away...'click!' Beauty is not caused. It is.