From this hour I ordain myself loos’d of limits and imaginary lines.
A week too late, but...
Forget the dead you've left; they will not follow you.
The vagabond who is rapping at your door, is standing in the clothes you once wore.
You hem me in -- behind and before;
you have laid your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
too lofty for me to attain.
"I put the fires out."
"you made them worse."