I have an appetite for silence.

The Truth never flaunted a sign.

I don't profess to be profound; but I do lay claim to common sense.

I wonder if it hurts to live, And if they have to try, And whether, could they choose between, They would not rather die.

The sun just touched the morning; The morning, happy thing, Supposed that he had come to dwell, And life would be all spring.

You cannot fold a flood and put it in a drawer, because the winds would find it out and tell your cedar floor.

How do most people live without any thought? There are many people in the world,--you must have noticed them in the street,--how do they live? How do they get strength to put on their clothes in the morning?