Addresses Are Given To Us To Conceal

He Seems The Incarnation Of Everything Soft And Silky And Velvety, Without A Sharp Edge In His Composition, A Dreamer Whose Philosophy Is Sleep And Let Sleep.

It Occurred To Me That I Would Like To Be A Poet. The Chief Qualification, I Understand Is That You Must Be Born. Well, I Hunted Up My Birth Certificate, And Found That I Was All Right On That Score.

Addresses Are Given To Us To Conceal Our Whereabouts.

People May Say What They Like About The Decay Of Christianity The Religious System That Produced Green Chartreuse Can Never Really Die.

The Cat Of The Slums And Alleys, Starved, Outcast, Harried, Still Keeps Amid The Prowlings Of Its Adversity The Bold, Free, Panther-tread With Which It Paced Of Yore The Temple Courts Of Thebes, Still Displays The Self-reliant Watchfulness Which Man Has Never Taught It To Lay Aside.