Death Is The Chillness That

That Was The First Sound In The Song Of Love! Scarce More Than Silence Is, And Yet A Sound. Hands Of Invisible Spirits Touch The Strings Of That Mysterious Instrument, The Soul, And Play The Prelude Of Our Fate. We Hear The Voice Prophetic, And Are Not Alone.

What Seems To Us But Dim Funeral Tapers May Be Heaven's Distant Lamps.

Our Pleasures And Our Discontents, Are Rounds By Which We May Ascend.

Your Education Begins Where What Is Called Your Education Is Over. Your Fate Is But The Common Lot Of All.

It Is Difficult To Know At What Moment Love Begins; It Is Less Difficult To Know That It Has Begun.