Where Thou Art, That Is Home.

Pain Has An Element Of Blank

How Strange That Nature Does Not Knock, And Yet Does Not Intrude!

I Argue Thee That Love Is Life. And Life Hath Immortality.

Hope Is A Thing With Feathers

How Happy Is The Little Stone That Rambles In The Road Alone, And Doesn't Care About Careers, And Exigencies Never Fears; Whose Coat Of Elemental Brown A Passing Universe Put On; And Independent As The Sun, Associates Or Glows Alone, Fulfilling Absolute Decree In Casual Simplicity.