O Cold ! O Shivery ! It

My Puns Are Not Trivial. They Are Quadrivial

Each Lost Soul Will Be A Hell Unto Itself, The Boundless Fire Raging In Its Very Vitals.

The Object Of The Artist Is The Creation Of The Beautiful. What The Beautiful Is Is Another Question.

His Heart Danced Upon Her Movement Like A Cork Upon A Tide.

When I Heard The Word ''stream'' Uttered With Such A Revolting Primness, What I Think Of Is Urine And Not The Contemporary Novel. And Besides, It Isn't New, It Is Far From The Dernier Cri. Shakespeare Used It Continually, Much Too Much In My Opinion, And There's Tristam Shandy, Not To Mention The "agamemnon."