Art Is To Look At Not To

I Was Never Kinder To The Old Man Than During The Whole Week Before I Killed Him.

Boston: Their Hotels Are Bad. Their Pumpkin Pies Are Delicious. Their Poetry Is Not So Good.

Lord Help My Poor Soul.

But Our Love Was Stronger By Far Than The Love Of Those Who Were Older Than We Of Many Far Wiser Than We And Neither The Angels In Heaven Above, Nor The Demons Down Under The Sea, Can Ever Dissever My Soul From The Soul Of The Beautiful Annabel Lee.

Once Upon A Midnight Dreary, While I Pondered Weak And Weary.