One Can Love Any Man That Is

Where The Mouth Is Sweet And The Eyes Intelligent, There Is Always The Look Of Beauty, With A Right Heart.

Christmas Is The Glorious Time Of Great Too-much.

An Author Is Like A Baker; It Is For Him To Make The Sweets, And Others To Buy And Enjoy Them.

There Seems A Life In Hair, Though It Be Dead.

We Are Slumberous Poppies, Lords Of Lethe Downs, Some Awake And Some Asleep, Sleeping In Our Crowns. What Perchance Our Dreams May Know, Let Our Serious May Know.