Trifles Make The Sum Of Life.

A Contented Spirit Is The Sweetness Of Existence.

Fan The Sinking Flame Of Hilarity With The Wing Of Friendship; And Pass The Rosy Wine.

It Was A Good Thing To Have A Couple Of Thousand People All Rigid And Frozen Together, In The Palm Of One's Hand.

The Night Crept On Apace, The Moon Went Down, The Stars Grew Pale And Dim, And Morning, Cold As They, Slowly Approached. Then, From Behind A Distant Hill, The Noble Sun Rose Up, Driving The Mists In Phantom Shapes Before It, And Clearing The Earth Of Their Ghostly Forms Till Darkness Came Again.

There Is Something Indefinably Keen And Wan About Her Anatomy, And She Has A Watchful Way Of Looking Out Of The Corners Of Her Eyes Without Turning Her Head Which Could Be Pleasantly Dispensed With, Especially When She Is In An Ill Humour And Near Knives. Through All The Good Taste Of Her Dress And Little Adornments, These Objections So Express Themselves That She Seems To Go About Like A Very Neat She-wolf Imperfectly Tamed.