Joys Are Bubble-like--what Makes Them Bursts Them

See The Gold Sunshine Patching, And Streaming And Streaking Across The Gray-green Oaks; And Catching, By Its Soft Brown Beard, The Moss.

Mind And Night Will Meet, Though In Silence, Like Forbidden Lovers.

Necessity, Like Electricity, Is In Ourselves And All Things, And No More Without Us Than Within Us.

I Have A Heart With Room For Every Joy .

The First And Worst Of All Frauds Is To Cheat One's Self.