We do not play on Gravesâ€” Because there isn't Roomâ€” Besidesâ€”it isn't evenâ€”it slants And People comeâ€” And put a Flower on itâ€”And hang their faces soâ€”We're fearing that their Hearts will dropâ€”And crush our pretty playâ€”And so we move as far as Enemiesâ€”awayâ€”Just looking round to see how far It isâ€”Occasionallyâ€”
You ask of my companions. Hills, sir, and the sundown, and a dog as large as myself.
Life is but Life! And Death, but Death! Bliss is but Bliss, and Breath but Breath!
My best Acquaintances are those with Whom I spoke no Word.
Opinion is a fitting thing but truth outlasts the sun - if then we cannot own them both, possess the oldest one.
Susie, what shall I do - there is'nt room enough; not half enough, to hold what I was going to say. Wont you tell the man who makes sheets of paper, that I hav'nt the slightest respect for him!
There is a ship as fast as a book to take us lands away.
Till I loved I never lived.
We dream â€” it is good we are dreaming â€” it would hurt us â€” were we awake â€”but since it is playing â€” kill us, and we are playing â€” shriek â€” What harm? Men die â€” externally â€”it is a truth â€” of Blood â€”but we â€” are dying in Drama â€”and Drama â€” is never dead â€” cautious â€” We jar each other â€”and either â€” open the eyes â€” lest the Phantasm â€” prove the Mistake â€”and the livid Surprise. Cool us to Shafts of Granite â€”with just an Age â€” and Name â€” and perhaps a phrase in Egyptian â€” it's prudenter â€” to dream â€”
You cannot fold a flood and put it in a drawer, because the winds would find it out and tell your cedar floor.
Look back on time with kindly eyes,
My business is circumference.
Pain - has an Element of Blank. It cannot recollect when it begun - or if there were a time when it was not - It has no Future - but itself - Its Infinite contain its Past - enlightened to perceive new Periods - of Pain.
Tell all the Truth but tell it slant-- Success in Circuit lies too bright for our infirm Delight the Truth's superb surprise as Lightening to the Children eased with explanation kind the Truth must dazzle gradually or every man be blind--
There is no Frigate like a Book to take us Lands away, nor any Coursers like a Page of prancing Poetry â€“ This Traverse may the poorest take without oppress of Toll â€“ how frugal is the Chariot that bears a Human soul.
Till it has loved, no man or woman can become itself.
We journey to the day, and tell each other how we sang to keep the dark away.