To Elevate The Soul, Poetry

In Efforts To Soar Above Our Nature, We Invariably Fall Below It.

Not Hear It? --yes, I Hear It, And Have Heard It. Long --long --long --many Minutes, Many Hours, Many Days, Have I Heard It --yet I Dared Not --oh, Pity Me, Miserable Wretch That I Am! --i Dared Not --i Dared Not Speak! We Have Put Her Living In The Tomb!

If A Poem Hasn't Ripped Apart Your Soul; You Haven't Experienced Poetry.

The Believer Is Happy. The Doubter Is Wise.

I Have, Indeed, No Abhorrence Of Danger, Except In Its Absolute Effect - In Terror.