I Play The Radio And Moon About...and

Spinach And Champagne. Going Back To The Kitchens At The Old Waldorf. Dancing On The Kitchen Tables, Wearing The Chef's Headgear. Finally, A Crash And Being Escorted Out By The House Detectives.

The Flapper Awoke From Her Lethargy Of Sub-deb-ism, Bobbed Her Hair, Put On Her Choicest Pair Of Earrings And A Great Deal Of Audacity And Rouge And Went Into The Battle. She Flirted Because It Was Fun To Flirt And Wore A One-piece Bathing Suit Because She Had A Good Figure She Was Conscious That The Things She Did Were The Things She Had Always Wanted To Do. Mothers Disapproved Of Their Sons Taking The Flapper To Dances, To Teas, To Swim And Most Of All To Heart.

A Southern Moon Is A Sodden Moon, And Sultry. When It Swamps The Fields And The Rustling Sandy Roads And The Sticky Honeysuckle Hedges In Its Sweet Stagnation, Your Fight To Hold On To Reality Is Like A Protestation Against A First Waft Of Ether.

Isn't It Funny How Danger Makes People Passionate?

“everybody Gives You Belief For The Asking,” She Said To David, “and So Few People Give You Anything More To Believe In Than Your Own Belief—just Not Letting You Down, That's All. It's So Hard To Find A Person Who Accepts Responsibilities Beyond What You Ask.' 'so Easy To Be Loved - So Hard To Love.' David Answered.