Emily Dickinson: The face we choose to miss, Be it but for a day— As absent as a hundred years When it has rode away.

The face we choose to miss, Be it but for a day— As absent as a hundred years Wh — Emily Dickinson

The face we choose to miss, Be it but for a day— As absent as a hundred years When it has rode away.

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It's such a little thing to weep , So short a thing to sigh ; And yet by trades — Emily Dickinson
God is sitting here, looking into my very soul to see if I think right thoughts — Emily Dickinson
Some Days retired from the rest In soft distinction lie, The Day that a companio — Emily Dickinson
There is a solitude of space, A solitude of sea, A solitude of death, but these — Emily Dickinson
That ev'n my buried Ashes such a snare Of Vintage shall fling up into the Air As — Omar Khayyám
O meu passado é tudo quanto não consegui ser. — Fernando Pessoa
Where have they gone, the brilliant, the insightful ones, the proud? — Marcus Aurelius
There was a Door to which I found no Key: There was a Veil past which I could no — Omar Khayyám
I had not achieved a success; but I provoked an uproar; and the sensation was so — George Bernard Shaw
Hope for a season bade the world farewell, And Freedom shrieked as Kosciusko fel — Thomas Campbell
It is better to poyson hir with the sweet bait of love. — John Lyly
So long as fortune is favouring you, your defects will remain covered. — Alī ibn Abī Ṭālib