How Delicate Her Feet Who Shuns The

Some Things You Will Think Of Yourself,...some Things God Will Put Into Your Mind

And Heaven, That Every Virtue Bears In Mind, E'en To The Ashes Of The Just Is Kind.

Look At Me! I'm A Puffy Pink Cloud!

Praise Me Not Too Much, Nor Blame Me, For Thou Speakest To The Greeks Who Know Me.

Generations Of Men Are Like The Leaves. In Winter, Winds Blow Them Down To Earth, But Then, When Spring Season Comes Again, The Budding Wood Grows More. And So With Men: One Generation Grows, Another Dies Away.