Sleep is not, death is not;
Who seem to die live.
House you were born in,
Friends of your springtime,
Old man and young maid,
Day’s toil and it guerdon,
They are all vanishing,
Fleeing to fables,
Cannot be moored.
-Poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson, Featured in Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children, Ransom Riggs, 2011
So Many Thoughts 