It Is Finished, Is Never Said Of

Hope Is A Strange Invention - A Patent Of The Heart - In Unremitting Action Yet Never Wearing Out

After A Hundred Years Nobody Knows The Place, Agony, That Enacted There, Motionless As Peace.

I Miss The Grasshoppers Much, But Suppose It Is All For The Best. I Should Become Too Much Attached To A Trotting World.

Enough Is So Vast A Sweetness I Suppose It Never Occurs.

Love Is Done When Loves Begun, Sages Say, But Have Sages Known?