I Have An Appetite For Silence.

Victory Comes Late-- And Is Held Low To Freezing Lips-- Too Rapt With Frost To Take It

Ample Make This Bed. Make This Bed With Awe; In It Wait Till Judgment Break Excellent And Fair. Be Its Mattress Straight, Be Its Pillow Round; Let No Sunrise’ Yellow Noise Interrupt This Ground.

We Both Believe, And Disbelieve A Hundred Times An Hour, Which Keeps Believing Nimble.

When I State Myself, As The Representative Of The Verse, It Does Not Mean Me, But A Supposed Person.

You Don't Have To Be A House To Be Haunted.