Those Who Have Not Found The Heaven

Much Madness Is Divinest Sense, To A Discerning Eye.

My Best Acquaintances Are Those With Whom I Spoke No Word

Morning Without You Is A Dwindled Dawn.

The Bustle In A House The Morning After Death Is Solemnest Of Industries Enacted Upon Earth,-- The Sweeping Up The Heart, And Putting Love Away We Shall Not Want To Use Again Until Eternity

The Possible's Slow Fuse Is Lit By The Imagination.