You May Charge Me With Murder--or Want

Fading, With The Night, The Memory Of A Dead Love, And The Withered Leaves Of A Blighted Hope, And The Sickly Repinings And Moody Regrets That Numb The Best Energies Of The Soul: And Rising, Broadening, Rolling Upward Like A Living Flood, The Manly Resolve, And The Dauntless Will, And The Heavenward Gaze Of Faith-the Substance Of Things Hoped For, The Evidence Of Things Not Seen!

Who Sail On Stormy Seas; And That's The Way I Get My Bread -- A Trifle, If You Please.

A Thick Stick In One's Hand Makes People Respectful.

There Are Certain Things--as, A Spider, A Ghost, The Income-tax, Gout, An Umbrella For Three-- That I Hate, But The Thing That I Hate The Most Is A Thing They Call The Sea.

If There's No Meaning In It," Said The King, "that Saves A World Of Trouble, You Know, As We Needn't Try To Find Any. And Yet I Don't Know," He Went On [...]; "i Seem To See Some Meaning In Them, After All.