History, With All Her Volumes Vast, Hath

Parting Day Dies Like The Dolphin, Whom Each Pang Imbues With A New Colour As It Gasps Away, The Last Still Loveliest, Till-'t Is Gone, And All Is Gray.

I Awoke One Morning And Found Myself Famous.

For Truth Is Always Strange; Stranger Than Fiction.

The Dome Of Thought, The Palace Of The Soul.

There Is No Such Thing As A Life Of Passion Any More Than A Continuous Earthquake, Or An Eternal Fever. Besides, Who Would Ever Shave Themselves In Such A State?