London Is A Huge Shop, With A

London Is A Huge Shop, With A Hotel On The Upper Storeys.

I Hate With A Bitter Hatred The Names Of Lentils Haricots - Those Pretentious Cheats Of The Appetite, Those Tabulated Humbugs, Those Certified Aridites Calling Themselves Human Food!

Have The Courage Of Your Desire.

Honest Winter, Snow Clad And With The Frosted Beard, I Can Welcome Not Uncordially; But That Long Deferment Of The Calendar's Promise, That Weeping Loom Of March And April, That Bitter Blast Outraging The Honor Of May - How Often Has It Robbed Me Of Heart And Hope.

I Know Every Book Of Mine By Its Smell, And I Have But To Put My Nose Between The Pages To Be Reminded Of All Sorts Of Things.