Let The Punishment Fit The Crime.

If I Can Wheedle A Knife Or A Needle, Why Not A Silver Churn?

Love, Unrequited, Robs Me Of My Rest: Love, Hopeless Love, My Ardent Soul Encumbers: Love, Nightmare-like, Lies Heavy On My Chest, And Weaves Itself Into My Midnight Slumbers!

If You Give Me Your Attention, I Will Tell You What I Am: I'm A Genuine Philanthropist--all Other Kinds Are Sham. Each Little Fault Of Temper And Each Social Defect In My Erring Fellow Creatures, I Endeavor To Correct.

It Isn't So Much What's On The Table That Matters, As What's On The Chairs.

Strike The Concertina's Melancholy String! Blow The Spirit-stirring Harp Like Any Thing! Let The Piano's Martial Blast Rouse The Echoes Of The Past