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A death-blow is a life-blow to some Who, till they died, did not alive become; Who, had they lived, had died, but when They died, vitality begun.
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Longing, it may be, is the gift no other gift supplies.
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Hope is a thing with feathers.
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That short, potential stir That each can make but once, That bustle so illustrious Tis almost consequence, Is the eclat of death.
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To die before one fears to die may be a boon.
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Publication - is the auction of the mind.
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Of Consciousness, her awful Mate. The Soul cannot be rid - as easy the secreting her behind the Eyes of God.
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A great hope fell You heard no noise The ruin was within.
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If I shouldn't be alive When the Robins come, Give the one in Red Cravat, A Memorial crumb.
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My Life had stood - a Loaded Gun -In Corners - till a DayThe Owner passed - identified -And carried Me away -And now We roam in Sovereign Woods -And now We hunt the Doe -And every time I speak for Him -The Mountains straight reply -
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The Past is such a curious Creature To look her in the Face A Transport may receipt us Or a Disgrace-.
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Eden is that old-fashioned house we dwell in every day Without suspecting our abode until we drive away.
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The sailor cannot see the north / but knows the needle can.
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Which Anguish was the utterest--then-- To perish, or to live?
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When we think of his lone effort to live and its bleak reward, the mind turns to the myth "for His mercy endureth forever," with confiding revulsion.
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Open your life wide, and take me in forever. I will never be tired-I will never be noisy when you want to be still...nobody else will see me, but you-but that is enough-I shall not want any more.
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Portrait The world spreads out on either side no farther than the heart is wide.
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Nothing more do I ask than to share with you the ecstasy and sacrament of my life.
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You are nipping in the bud fancies which I let blossom. The shore is safer, but I love to buffet the sea - I can count the bitter wrecks here in these pleasant waters, and hear the murmuring winds, but oh, I love the danger!
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She rose to his requirement, dropped The playthings of her life To take the honorable work Of woman and of wife.
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The older I grow the more do I love spring and spring flowers. Is it so with you?
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That no Flake of snow fall on you or them - is a wish that would be a Prayer, were Emily not a Pagan.
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It is true that the unknown is the largest need of the intellect, though for it, no one thinks to thank God.
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These are the days when birds come back, a very few, a Bird or two, to take a backward look.