I Make Bean Stalks, I'm

We Were So Wholly One I Had Not Thought That We Could Die Apart. I Had Not Thought That I Could Move,—and You Be Stiff And Still! That I Could Speak,—and You Perforce Be Dumb! I Think Our Heart-strings Were, Like Warp And Woof In Some Firm Fabric, Woven In And Out; Your Golden Filaments In Fair Design Across My Duller Fibre.

When You Publish Something, It Is Very Much As If You Pulled Your Pants Down In Public. If What You Have Written Is Good, Nobody Can Hurt You; If What You Have Written Is Bad, Nobody Can Help You.

They Say When You Are Missing Someone That They Are Probably Feeling The Same, But I Don't Think It's Possible For You To Miss Me As Much As I'm Missing You Right Now

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

There Are A Hundred Places Where I Fear To Go, --so With His Memory They Brim! And Entering With Relief Some Quiet Place Where Never Fell His Foot Or Shone His Face I Say, 'there Is No Memory Of Him Here!' And So Stand Stricken, So Remembering Him!