Old age comes on suddenly, and not gradually as is thought.

To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee, One clover, and a bee, And revery. The revery alone will do, If bees are few.

Where thou art, that is home.

Beauty is not caused. It is.

Because I could not stop for death, He kindly stopped for me The carriage held but just ourselves and immortality.

Love is anterior to life, posterior to death, initial of creation, and the exponent of breath.

The soul should always stand ajar, ready to welcome the ecstatic experience.

Fame is a fickle food upon a shifting plate.

They say that God is everywhere, and yet we always think of Him as somewhat of a recluse.

After great pain, a formal feeling comes. The Nerves sit ceremonious, like tombs.