I Am Waylaid By Beauty.

Euclid Alone Has Looked On Beauty Bare. Fortunate They Who, Though Once Only And Then But Far Away, Have Heard Her Massive Sandal Set On Stone.

Music My Rampart, And My Only One.

To Be Grown Up Is To Sit At The Table With People Who Have Died, Who Neither Listen Nor Speak.

And He Whose Soul Is Flat -- The Sky Will Cave In On Him By And By.

A Grave Is Such A Quiet Place.