I Know I Haven't Much Sense Or

Heretics Are Wicked, But They're Mighty Int'resting. It's Jest That They've Got Sorter Lost Looking For God, Being Under The Impression That He's Hard To Find - Which He Ain't Never.

The Night Was Clear And Frosty, All Ebony Of Shadow And Silver Of Snowy Slope; Big Stars Were Shining Over The Silent Fields; Here And There The Dark Pointed Firs Stood Up With Snow Powdering Their Branches And The Wind Whistling Through Them.

That Is One Consolation When You Are Poor—there Are So Many More Things You Can Imagine About.

Dear Old World', She Murmured, 'you Are Very Lovely, And I Am Glad To Be Alive In You.

The Only True Animal Is A Cat, And The Only True Cat Is A Gray Cat.