This is my letter to the world That never wrote to me

Portrait The world spreads out on either side no farther than the heart is wide.

When he tells us about his Father, we distrust him. When he shows us his Home, we turn away, but when he confides to us that he is acquainted with grief, we listen, for that also is an acquaintance of our own.

AMPLE make this bed. Make this bed with awe; In it wait till judgment break Excellent and fair. Be its mattress straight, Be its pillow round; Let no sunrise’ yellow noise Interrupt this ground.

Drunkards of summer are quite as frequent as Drunkards of wine.

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

The Things that never can come back, are several - Childhood - some forms of Hope - the Dead.