He fumbles at your spirit As players at the keys Before they drop full music on; He stuns you by degrees. Prepares your brittle substance For the ethereal blow by fainter hammers, further heard, Then nearer, then so slow Your breath has time to straighten Your brain to bubble cool,- Deals one imperial thunderbolt That scalps your naked soul.

Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul.

We both believe, and disbelieve a hundred times an hour, which keeps believing nimble.

The only secret people keep is immortality.

Hold dear to your parents for it is a scary and confusing world without them.

We outgrow love like other things and put it in a drawer, till it an antique fashion shows like costumes grandsires wore.

I never saw a meme; I never saw the sea.