The Day Was Made For Laziness, And

He Appeared To Enjoy Beyond Everything The Sound Of His Own Voice. I Couldn't Wonder At That, For It Was Mellow And Full And Gave Great Importance To Every Word He Uttered. He Listened To Himself With Obvious Satisfaction And Sometimes Gently Beat Time To His Own Music With His Head Or Rounded A Sentence With His Hand.

"it's Nothing," Returned Mrs Chick. "it's Merely Change Of Weather. We Must Expect Change."

Dickens Writes That An Event, "began To Be Forgotten, As Most Affairs Are, When Wonder, Having No Fresh Food To Support It, Dies Away Of Itself.

Yes. He Is Quite A Good Fellow - Nobody's Enemy But His Own.

Did It Ever Strike You On Such A Morning As This That Drowning Would Be Happiness And Peace?