Why Then We Should Drop Into Poetry.

For Though We Are Perpetually Bragging Of It As Our Safety, It Is Nothing But A Poor Fringe On The Mantle Of The Upper.

Rich Folks May Ride On Camels, But It Ain't So Easy For 'em To See Out Of A Needle's Eye.

Them Which Is Of Other Naturs Thinks Different.

Such Is Hope, Heaven's Own Gift To Struggling Mortals, Pervading, Like Some Subtle Essence From The Skies, All Things Both Good And Bad.

If I May So Express It, I Was Steeped In Dora. I Was Not Merely Over Head And Ears In Love With Her, But I Was Saturated Through And Through. Enough Love Might Have Been Wrung Out Of Me, Metaphorically Speaking, To Drown Anybody In; And Yet There Would Have Remained Enough Within Me, And All Over Me, To Pervade My Entire Existence.