The Soul Selects Her Own Society.

... And Then I Heard Them Lift A Box, And Creak Across My Soul With Those Same Boots Of Lead, Again, Then Space Began To Toll.

If Fame Belonged To Me, I Could Not Escape Her; If She Did Not, The Longest Day Would Pass Me On The Chase, And The Approbation Of My Dog Would Forsake Me.

Of Consciousness, Her Awful Mate. The Soul Cannot Be Rid - As Easy The Secreting Her Behind The Eyes Of God.

The Life We Have Is Very Great. The Life That We Shall See Surpasses It, We Know, Because It Is Infinity, But When All Space Has Been Beheld And All Dominion Shown The Smallest Human Heart's Extent Reduces It To None.

The Revery Alone Will Do If Bees Are Few.