Common sense is almost as omniscient as God.
Hope is a thing with feathers
One need not be a chamber to be haunted.
I have an appetite for silence.
Affection is like bread, unnoticed till we starve, and then we dream of it, and sing of it, and paint it, when every urchin in the street has more than he can eat.
Write me of hope and love, and hearts that endured.