Pain After great pain, a formal feeling comes. The Nerves sit ceremonious, like tombs. After great pain, a formal feeling comes. The Nerves sit ceremonious, like tombs.YOU MAY ALSO LIKE »Drab Habitation of Whom? Tabernacle or Tomb — or Dome of Worm — or Porch of Gnome — or some Elf’s Catacomb?If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry.I like a look of Agony, because I know it’s true — men do not sham Convulsion, nor simulate, a Throe —Fame is a fickle food upon a shifting plate.Faith is a fine invention when Gentleman can see — but microscopes are prudent in an emergencyAssent — and you are sane — , demur — you’re straightway dangerous — , and handled with a Chain — .