Judge Tenderly Of Me.

That Short, Potential Stir That Each Can Make But Once, That Bustle So Illustrious Tis Almost Consequence, Is The Eclat Of Death.

Exultation Is The Going Of An Inland Soul To Sea Past The Houses, Past The Headlands Into Deep Eternity! Bred As We, Among The Mountains Can The Sailor Understand The Divine Intoxication Of The First League Out From Land?

I Know Nothing In The World That Has As Much Power As A Word. Sometimes I Write One, And I Look At It, Until It Begins To Shine.

Forever - Is Composed Of Nows - 'tis Not A Different Time... Let Months Dissolve In Further Months - And Years - Exhale In Years.

No Ladder Needs The Bird But Skies To Situate Its Wings, Nor Any Leaders Grim Baton Arraigns It As It Sings.