Speech is one symptom of affection; and silence one; the perfect communication is heard of none.

I can wade Grief -- Whole Pools of it -- I'm used to that -- But the least push of Joy Breaks up my feet -- And I tip -- drunken -- Let no Pebble -- smile -- 'Twas the New Liquor -- That was all!

Nothing more do I ask than to share with you the ecstasy and sacrament of my life.

My best Acquaintances are those With Whom I spoke no Word

Mine Enemy is growing old -- I have at last Revenge -- The Palate of the Hate departs -- If any would avenge Let him be quick -- the Viand flits -- It is a faded Meat -- Anger as soon as fed is dead -- 'Tis starving makes it fat

Beauty is just a light switch away...'click!' Beauty is not caused. It is.

A precious, mouldering pleasure 't is, to meet an antique book, In just the dress his century wore; A privilege I think.