Time Is The School In Which We

Time Is The School In Which We Learn, Time Is The Fire In Which We Burn.

I Got Married The Second Time In The Way That, When A Murder Is Committed, Crackpots Turn Up At The Police Station To Confess The Crime.

Even Paranoids Have Real Enemies.

All Literature Is An Effort At The Formal Character Of The Epigram.

Whence, If Ever, Shall Come The Actualityof A Voice Speaking The Mind's Knowing,the Sunlight Bright On The Green Windowshade,and The Self Articulate, Affectionate, And Flowing,ease, Warmth, Light, The Utter Showing,when In The White Bed All Things Are Made.