Drunkards Of Summer Are Quite As Frequent

[a] Mother Is One To Whom You Hurry When You Are Troubled.

My Love For Those I Love -- Not Many -- Not Very Many, But Don't I Love Them So?

So Proud She Was To Die It Made Us All Ashamed That What We Cherished, So Unknown To Her Desire Seemed. So Satisfied To Go Where None Of Us Should Be, Immediately, That Anguish Stooped Almost To Jealousy.

One Step At A Time Is All It Takes To Get You There.

There Is A Solitude Of Space. A Solitude Of Sea. A Solitude Of Death, But These Societies Shall Be Compared With That Profounder Site-that Polar Privacy. A Soul Admitted To Itself--finite Infinity.