Every Wish Is Like A Prayer--with God.

The Large White Owl That With Eye Is Blind, That Hath Sate For Years In The Old Tree Hollow, Is Carried Away In A Gust Of Wind.

For None Can Express Thee, Though All Should Approve Thee. I Love Thee So, Dear, That I Only Can Love Thee.

I, Who Had Had My Heart Full For Hours, Took Advantage Of An Early Moment Of Solitude, To Cry In It Very Bitterly. Suddenly A Little Hairy Head Thrust Itself From Behind My Pillow Into My Face, Rubbing Its Ears And Nose Against Me In A Responsive Agitation, And Drying The Tears As They Came.

I Would Confide To You Perhaps My Secret Profession Of Faith - Which Is ... Which Is ... That Let Us Say And Do What We Please And Can ... There Is A Natural Inferiority Of Mind In Women - Of The Intellect ... Not By Any Means, Of The Moral Nature - And That The History Of Art And Of Genius Testifies To This Fact Openly.

I Tell You, Hopeless Grief Is Passionless.