As A Confirmed Astronomer I'm Always For

No, In Country Money, The Country Scale Of Gain, The Requisite Lift Of Spirit Has Never Been Found.

The Artist In Me Cries Out For Design.

Whose Woods These Are I Think I Know. His House Is In The Village Though; He Will Not See Me Stopping Here To Watch His Woods Fill Up With Snow.

You've Got To Love What's Lovable, And Hate What's Hateable. It Takes Brains To See The Difference.

For I Have Had Too Much Of Apple-picking:i Am Overtired Of The Great Harvest I Myself Desired.