Heaven Know Its Time; The Bullet Has

Cats Are A Very Mysterious Kind Of Folk. There Is Always More Passing In Their Minds Than We Are Aware Of.

Commend Me To Sterling Honesty Though Clad In Rags.

The Half Hour Between Waking And Rising Has All My Life Proved Propitious To Any Task Which Was Exercising My Invention... It Was Always When I First Opened My Eyes That The Desired Ideas Thronged Upon Me.

Spangling The Wave With Lights As Vain As Pleasures In The Vale Of Pain, That Dazzle As They Fade.

Good Even, Good Fair Moon, Good Even To Thee. I Prithee, Dear Moon, Now Show To Me The Form And The Features, The Speech And Degree, Of The Man That True Lover Of Mine Shall Be.