You, Sir, Are The Most Phantom-like Of

The Idea Of Seeing The Sea - Of Being Near It - Watching Its Changes By Sunrise, Sunset, Moonlight, And Noonday - In Calm, Perhaps In Storm - Fills And Satisfies My Mind.

I'm Just Going To Write Because I Cannot Help It.

I Am No Bird And No Net Ensnares Me

Jane, My Little Darling (so I Will Call You, For So You Are), You Don't Know What You Are Talking About; You Misjudge Me Again: It Is Not Because She Is Mad I Hate Her. If You Were Mad, Do You Think I Should Hate You?

A Ruffled Mind Makes A Restless Pillow.