O Harp Of Life, So Speedily Unstrung!

The Thing One Reads And Likes, And Then Forgets, Is Of No Account. The Thing That Stays, And Haunts One, And Refuses To Be Forgotten, That Is The Sincere Thing.

But I, In The Chilling Twilight Stand And Wait At The Portcullis, At Thy Castle Gate, Longing To See The Charmed Door Of Dreams Turn On Its Noiseless Hinges, Delicate Sleep!

I Beg You Come Tonight And Dine A Welcome Waits You And Sound Wine The Roederer Chilly To A Charm As Juno's Breasts The Claret Warm.

Dialect Tempered With Slang Is An Admirable Medium Of Communication Between Persons Who Have Nothing To Say And Persons Who Would Not Care For Anything Properly Said.

Civilization Is The Lamb's Skin In Which Barbarism Masquerades.