The Well Of True Wit Is Truth

Among The Diaries Beginning With The Second Quarter Of Our Century, There Is Frequent Mention Of A Lady Then Becoming Famous For Her Beauty And Her Wit: "an Unusual Combination," In The Deliberate Syllables Of One Of The Writers, Who Is, However, Not Disposed To Personal Irony When Speaking Of Her.

She Poured A Little Social Sewage Into His Ears.

I Expect Woman Will Be The Last Thing Civilized By Man.

Lovely Are The Curves Of The White Owl Sweeping Wavy In The Dusk Lit By One Large Star. Lone On The Fir-branch, His Rattle-note Unvaried, Brooding O'er The Gloom, Spins The Brown Eve-jar.

Earth, The Mother Of All, Moves On Her Stedfast Way, Gathering, Flinging, Sowing. Mortals, We Live In Her Day, She In Her Children Is Growing.