I Do Not Think There Is A

This Book, When I Am Dead, Will Be A Little Faint Perfume Of Me. People Who Knew Me Well Will Say, She Really Used To Think That Way.

Catch From The Board Of Beauty/ Such Careless Crumbs As Fall.

Please Give Me Some Good Advice In Your Next Letter. I Promise Not To Follow It.

We Are All Ruled In What We Do By Impulses; And These Impulses Are So Organized That Our Actions In General Serve For Our Self Preservation And That Of The Race.

Life In Itself / Is Nothing, / An Empty Cup, A Flight Of Uncarpeted Stairs. / It Is Not Enough That Yearly, Down This Hill, / April / Comes Like An Idiot, Babbling And Strewing Flowers.