There Is Prodigious Strength In

Have A Heart That Never Hardens, And A Temper That Never Tires, And A Touch That Never Hurts.

. . . In Seclusion, She Had Secluded Herself From A Thousand Natural And Healing Influences; That, Her Mind, Brooding Solitary, Had Grown Diseased, As All Minds Do And Must And Will That Reverse The Appointed Order Of Their Maker . . .

There Is A Drowsy State, Between Sleeping And Waking, When You Dream More In Five Minutes With Your Eyes Half Open, And Yourself Half Conscious Of Everything That Is Passing Around You, Than You Would In Five Nights With Your Eyes Fast Closed, And Your Senses Wrapt In Perfect Unconsciousness. At Such Time, A Mortal Knows Just Enough Of What His Mind Is Doing, To Form Some Glimmering Conception Of Its Mighty Powers, Its Bounding From Earth And Spurning Time And Space, When Freed From The Restraint Of Its Corporeal Associate.

It Was Very Dark; But In The Murky Sky There Were Masses Of Cloud Which Shone With A Lurid Light, Like Monstrous Heaps Of Copper That Had Been Heated In A Furnace, And Were Growing Cold.

To Close The Eyes, And Give A Seemly Comfort To The Apparel Of The Dead, Is Poverty's Holiest Touch Of Nature.