I dwell in possibility.
I have a brother and sister; my mother does not care for thought, and father, too busy with his briefs to notice what we do. He buys me many books, but begs me not to read them, because he fears they joggle the mind.
I do not like the man who squanders life for fame; give me the man who living makes a name.
If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry.
Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality.
I had no portrait, now, but am small, like the wren; and my hair is bold, like the chestnut bur; and my eyes, like the sherry in the glass, that the guest leaves.
Tell the truth, but tell it slant.
Behavior is what a man does, not what he thinks, feels, or believes.
My friends are my estate.
The soul should always stand ajar, ready to welcome the ecstatic experience.