Is Bliss then, such Abyss, I must not put my foot amiss For fear I spoil my shoe? I'd rather suit my foot Than save my Boot -- For yet to buy another Pair is possible, At any store -- But Bliss, is sold just once. The Patent lost None buy it any more --

Friends are nations in themselves.

I would like more sisters, that the taking out of one, might not leave such stillness.

Beauty is not the cause of something, it is what it is.

But a Book is only the Heart's Portrait- every Page a Pulse.

I see thee better in the dark I do not need a light.

Some Arrows slay but whom they strike - But this slew all but him - Who so appareled his Escape - Too trackless for a Tomb