With stammering lips and insufficient sound I strive and struggle to deliver right the music of my nature. - Elizabeth Barrett Browning

The picture of helpless indolence she calls herself
sublimely helpless and impotent
I had done living I thought
Was ever life so like death before? My face was so close against the tombstones,
that there seemed no room for tears.

The soul hath snatched up mine all faint and weak,
And placed it by thee on a golden throne, — And that I love (O soul, we must be meek!)
Is by thee only, whom I love alone.

And Flush came and I assure you that nearly as much attention has been paid to Flush as to me from the beginning, so that he is perfectly reconciled, and would be happy if the people at the railroads were not barbarians, and immovable in their evil designs of shutting him up in a box when we travel that way.