Apothegms Form A Short Cut To Much

When Eve Upon The First Of Men The Apple Press'd With Specious Cant, Oh! What A Thousand Pities Then That Adam Was Not Adamant!

Bells Are Musics Laughter.

While The Steeples Are Loud In Their Joy, To The Tune Of The Bells' Ring-a-ding, Let Us Chime In A Peal, One And All, For We All Should Be Able To Sing Hullah Baloo.

With Fingers Weary And Worn, With Eyelids Heavy And Red, A Woman Sat In Unwomanly Rags, Plying Her Needle And Thread.

Alas For The Rarity Of Christian Charity Under The Sun!