Forever Is Composed Of Nows.

I Died For Beauty--but Was Scarce Adjusted In The Tomb When One Who Died For Truth, Was Lain In An Adjoining Room

It Is Finished, Is Never Said Of Us

A Power Of Butterfly Must Be - The Aptitude To Fly Meadows Of Majesty Concedes And Easy Sweeps Of Sky -

Faith Is A Fine Invention When Gentlemen Can See, But Microscopes Are Prudent In An Emergency.

My Faith Is Larger Than The Hills— So When The Hills Decay— My Faith Must Take The Purple Wheel To Show The Sun The Way— 'tis First He Steps Upon The Vane— And Then — Upon The Hill— And Then Abroad The World He Go To Do His Golden Will— And If His Yellow Feet Should Miss— The Bird Would Not Arise— The Flowers Would Slumber On Their Stems— No Bells Have Paradise— How Dare I, Therefore, Stint A Faith On Which So Vast Depends— Lest Firmament Should Fail For Me— The Rivet In The Bands