Any Honest Housewife Would Sort Them Out,/

Well, We've Been Lucky Devils Both And There Is No Need For A Pledge Or Oath To Bind Our Lovely Friendship Fast, By Firmer Stuff Close Bound Enough.

Love Is A Universal Migraine. A Bright Stain On The Vision, Blotting Out Reason.

A Banker Warned The British Poet Robert Graves That One Could Not Grow Rich Writing Poetry. He Replied That If There Was No Money In Poetry, There Was Certainly No Poetry In Money, And So It Was All Even.

There Is One Story And One Story Only.

Hate Is A Fear, And Fear Is Rot That Cankers Root And Fruit Alike, Fight Cleanly Then, Hate Not, Fear Not, Strike With No Madness When You Strike.