There Is A Pain So Utter, It

There Is No Frigate Like A Book

A Word That Breathes Distinctly Has Not The Power To Die

Hope Is The Thing With Feathers That Perches In The Soul, And Sings The Tune Without The Words, And Never Stops At All, And Sweetest In The Gale Is Heard; And Sore Must Be The Storm That Could Abash The Little Bird That Kept So Many Warm. I've Heard It In The Chilliest Land And On The Strangest Sea; Yet, Never, In Extremity, It Asked A Crumb Of Me.

Banish Air From Air Divide Light If You Dare

Suspense-is Hostiler Than Death-death- Tho Soever Broad, Is Just Death, And Cannot Increase- Suspense-does Not Conclude-.