A precious, mouldering pleasure 't is, to meet an antique book, In just the dress his century wore; A privilege I think.
Emily DickinsonMuch Madness is divinest Sense -- To a discerning Eye -- Much Sense -- the starkest Madness -- 'Tis the Majority In this, as All, prevail -- Assent -- and you are sane -- Demur -- you're straightway dangerous -- And handled with a Chain --
Emily DickinsonInebriate of air am I, And debauchee of dew, Reeling, through endless summer days, From inns of molten blue.
Emily Dickinson