There are no words, no paints to express all this, only a beautiful dumbness in the soul, life speaking to life.

Be careful that you do not write or paint anything that is not your own, that you don't know in your own soul.

Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul - and sings the tunes without the words - and never stops at all.

Yes, as my swift days near their goal, 'tis all that I implore: In life and death a chainless soul, with courage to endure.

What fortitude the Soul contains, / That it can so endure / The accent of a coming Foot-- / The opening of a Door.

The Soul selects her own Society.