The Heart wants what it wants - or else it does not care - Emily Dickinson

"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."

"That it will never come again is what makes life sweet."

"A great hope fellYou heard no noiseThe ruin was within."

"That I shall love always, I argue theethat love is life,and life hath immortality"