Remorse is memory awake, Her companies astir, — A presence of departed acts At window and at door. Its past set down before the soul, And lighted wi… - Emily Dickinson

Not even God can heal; For ‘t is his institution, — The complement of hell.

I took my power in my hand And went against the world; ’T was not so much as David had, But I was twice as bold. I aimed my pebble, but myself Was all the one that fell. Was it Goliath was too large, Or only I too small?

Sweet hours have perished here;
This is a mighty room;
Within its precincts hopes have played, — Now shadows in the tomb.

I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there ’s a pair of us — don’t tell!
They ’d banish us, you know.

How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!