We never know how high we are Till we are called to rise; And then, if we are true to plan, Our statures touch the skies. The heroism we recite Woul… - Emily Dickinson

We never know how high we are till we are called to rise. Then if we are true to form our statures touch the skies.

A face devoid of love or grace, A hateful, hard, successful face, A face with which a stone Would feel as thoroughly at ease As were they old acquaintances, —

She dealt her pretty words like Blades — How glittering they shone — And every One unbared a Nerve
Or wantoned with a Bone — She never deemed — she hurt — That — is not Steel's Affair — A vulgar grimace in the Flesh — How ill the Creatures bear — To Ache is human — not polite — The Film upon the eye
Mortality's old Custom — Just locking up — to Die.

To attempt to speak of what has been, would be impossible. Abyss has no Biographer -