Take The Pencil And Write Under My

When She Took Her Opposite Place In The Carriage Corner, The Brightness In Her Face Was So Charming To Behold, That On Her Exclaiming, "what Beautiful Stars And What A Glorious Night!" The Secretary Said "yes," But Seemed To Prefer To See The Night And The Stars In The Light Of Her Lovely Little Countenance, To Looking Out Of Window.

Time Has Been Lost And Opportunity Thrown Away, But I Am Yet A Young Man, And May Retrieve It.

There Either Is Or Is Not, That’s The Way Things Are. The Colour Of The Day. The Way It Felt To Be A Child. The Saltwater On Your Sunburnt Legs. Sometimes The Water Is Yellow, Sometimes It’s Red. But What Colour It May Be In Memory, Depends On The Day. I’m Not Going To Tell You The Story The Way It Happened. I’m Going To Tell It The Way I Remember It.

Thus, Cases Of Injustice, And Oppression, And Tyranny, And The Most Extravagant Bigotry, Are In Constant Occurrence Among Us Every Day. It Is The Custom To Trumpet Forth Much Wonder And Astonishment At The Chief Actors Therein Setting At Defiance So Completely The Opinion Of The World; But There Is No Greater Fallacy; It Is Precisely Because They Do Consult The Opinion Of Their Own Little World That Such Things Take Place At All, And Strike The Great World Dumb With Amazement.

"drink With Me, My Dear," Said Mr. Weller. "put Your Lips To This Here Tumbler, And Then I Can Kiss You By Deputy."