My Patience Has Dreadful Chilblains

The Tyrant Should Take Heed To What He Doth, Since Every Victim-carrion Turns To Use, And Drives A Chariot, Like A God Made Wroth, Against Each Piled Injustice.

May The Good God Pardon All Good Men.

I Love Thee To The Depth And Breadth And Height My Soul Can Reach.

Silence Is The Best Response To A Fool.

Why, What Is To Live? Not To Eat And Drink And Breathe,—but To Feel The Life In You Down All The Fibres Of Being, Passionately And Joyfully.