November Always Seemed To Me The Norway

The Soul Selects Her Own Society, Then Shuts The Door; On Her Divine Majority Obtrude No More.

Hope Is The Thing With Feathers That Perches In The Soul.

Home Is The Definition Of God.

I Cannot Live With You, It Would Be Life, And Life Is Over There Behind The Shelf

All Things Do Go A-courting, In Earth, Or Sea, Or Air, God Hath Made Nothing Single But Thee In His World So Fair.