In good leaning of great tenderness,
another should be remembered,
possess who might have been.
will her mind rise up and leap out
of another hour and escape?
how many doors have I reached for
key and hand?
the last time I sent, I locked myself out,
said
you will save yourself.
What are you thinking?
Don’t this time. (Chris Stewart)
Danced as if these sparks
knowingly feast on individuals
two or three will be histories
which modify more than allude to.
other propensities act more powerfully
than cares and duties.
the exalted energy of distinguishing
end from this recollection.
instances, as well as injury, are concerned.
A word, the existence of which is regretted
for long enough to come
yearnings roamed over the body,
difficulty in providing a devil
the parent of sighs
and such oaths and blasphemy.
I am a root, a stone, an owl pellet,
Without dreams of any sort. (Sylvia Plath)
Grief is the passion of humanity
but especially love in the young female.
a thousand circumstances are the domestic hearth
in a narrow circle of feelings
sit smiling at
grief
great horror of
half an hour.
the effect of violet rage is
the system the heart beats,
the energy of a will
on the care for the smallest degree.
the essential fact in all manifestations
is the break-down of power,
and especially the higher kinds of power.
I shall say nothing;
present you with life,
a trace of high colour.
pretty heart and sudden voice
wind to her throat and the
sensation of attack ends
There’s only two things I’d always change if you asked me:
You’ve got a motor for a mouth. (Chris Stewart)
Observe, the violent limits of sanity
the milder feeling of self-torture
the making up of the
plainest duty
any tenderness
is exceedingly small.
help is
fanatically narrow.
they were
quite free in their younger
numbers
a very small change of life.