There's Nothing I'm Afraid Of

You, Of Course, Are A Rose-- But Were Always A Rose.

The Question That He Frames In All But Words Is What To Make Of A Diminished Thing.

Ends And Beginnings—there Are No Such Things. There Are Only Middles.

Tree At My Window, Window Tree, My Sash Is Lowered When Night Comes On; But Let There Never Be Curtain Drawn Between You And Me.

... War Is For Everyone, For Children Too. I Wasn't Going To Tell You And I Mustn't. The Best Way Is To Come Uphill With Me And Have Our Fire And Laugh And Be Afraid.