Puns Are The Droppings Of Soaring Wits.

The Left-handed Are Precious; They Take Places Which Are Inconvenient For The Rest.

We Are All Under Sentence Of Death, But With A Sort Of Indefinite Reprieve.

They Adored Each Other; But Still The Permanent And The Immutable Subsist. We May Love And Laugh, Pout, Clasp Hands, Smile, And Exchange Endearments, But That Does Not Affect Eternity. Two Lovers Hide In The Dusk Of Evening, Amid Flowers And The Twittering Of Birds, And Enchant Each Other With Their Hearts Shinning In Their Eyes; But The Stars In Their Course Still Circle Through Infinite Space.

Knowledge Is A Weight Added To Conscience.

Large, Heavy, Ragged Black Clouds Hung Like Crape Hammocks Beneath The Starry Cope Of The Night. You Would Have Said That They Were The Cobwebs Of The Firmament.