When I Go Abroad I Always Sail

Only The Young Die Good.

I Would Like To Throw An Egg Into An Electric Fan.

Manuscript: Something Submitted In Haste And Returned At Leisure.

A Man Must Love A Thing Very Much If He Not Only Practices It Without Any Hope Of Fame And Money, But Even... Without Any Hope Of Doing It Well.

I Sometimes Think The Pussy-willows Grey Are Angel Kittens Who Have Lost Their Way, And Every Bulrush On The River Bank A Cat-tail From Some Lovely Cat Astray.