Nowhere Can I Think So Happily As

Tell The Innocent Visitor From Another World That Two People Were Killed At Serajevo, And That The Best That Europe Could Do About It Was To Kill Eleven Million More.

Nobody Can Be Uncheered With A Balloon.

It's Not Much Of A Tail, But I'm Sort Of Attached To It.

Of Beer, An Enthusiast Has Said That It Could Never Be Bad, But That Some Brands Might Be Better Than Others.

By The Time It Came To The Edge Of The Forest, The Stream Had Grown Up, So That It Was Almost A River, And, Being Grown-up, It Did Not Run And Jump And Sparkle Along As It Used To Do When It Was Younger, But Moved More Slowly. For It Knew Now Where It Was Going, And It Said To Itself, “there Is No Hurry. We Shall Get There Some Day.” But All The Little Streams Higher Up In The Forest Went This Way And That, Quickly, Eagerly, Having So Much To Find Out Before It Was Too Late.