"The bustle in a houseThe morning after deathIs solemnest of industriesEnacted upon earth,--The sweeping up the heart,And putting love awayWe shall not want to use againUntil eternity"
"There's a certain slant of light,On winter afternoons,That oppresses, like the weightOf cathedral tunes."
"Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality."
"If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain."
"Forever is composed of nows."
"She dealt her pretty words like Blades --How glittering they shone --And every One unbared a NerveOr wantoned with a Bone --She never deemed -- she hurt --That -- is not Steel's Affair --A vulgar grimace in the Flesh --How ill the Creatures bear --To Ache is human -- not polite --The Film upon the eyeMortality's old Custom --Just locking up -- to Die."