And Each Separate Dying Ember Wrought Its

I Have, Indeed, No Abhorrence Of Danger, Except In Its Absolute Effect - In Terror.

Thank Heaven! The Crisis /the Danger Is Past, And The Lingering Illness, Is Over At Last /, And The Fever Called ''living'' Is Conquered At Last.

Scorching My Seared Heart With A Pain, Not Hell Shall Make Me Fear Again.

There Is No Beauty Without Some Strangeness

I Am Above The Weakness Of Seeking To Establish A Sequence Of Cause And Effect, Between The Disaster And The Atrocity.