The Mass Of Men Live Lives Of

A Bit Of Trash Now And Then Is Good For The Severest Reader. It Provides The Necessary Roughage In The Literary Diet.

I Sing Connecticut, Her Charms / Of Rivers, Orchards, Blossoming Ridges. / I Sing Her Gardens, Fences, Farms, / Spiders And Midges.

Cocktail Parties ... Are Usually Not Parties At All But Mass Ceremonials Designed To Clear Up At One Great Stroke A Wealth Of Obligations.

Gossip Isn't Scandal And It's Not Merely Malicious. It's Chatter About The Human Race By Lovers Of The Same.

In Spring When Maple Buds Are Red, We Turn The Clock An Hour Ahead; Which Means, Each April That Arrives, We Lose An Hour Out Of Our Lives. Who Cares? When Autumn Birds In Flocks Fly Southward, Back We Turn The Clocks, And So Regain A Lovely Thing That Missing Hour We Lost In Spring.