Lots Of Times You Have To Pretend

Beauty Is Ever To The Lonely Mind A Shadow Fleeting; She Is Never Plain. She Is A Visitor Who Leaves Behind The Gift Of Grief, The Souvenir Of Pain.

All Cities Are Mad: But The Madness Is Gallant. All Cities Are Beautiful: But The Beauty Is Grim.

Act Like You Expect To Get Into The End Zone.

There Is No Mistaking A Real Book When One Meets It. It Is Like Falling In Love.

Beware Of The Conversationalist Who Adds "in Other Words." He Is Merely Starting Afresh.