By Myself Walking, To Myself Talking.

Your Absence Of Mind We Have Borne, Till Your Presence Of Body Came To Be Called In Question By It.

The English Writer, Charles Lamb, Said One Day: "i Hate That Man." "but You Don't Know Him." "of Course, I Don't," Said Lamb. "do You Think I Could Possibly Hate A Man I Know?"

Gluttony And Surfeiting Are No Proper Occasions For Thanksgiving.

Since All The Maids Are Good And Lovable, From Whence Come The Bad Wives?

Oh, The Pleasure Of Eating My Dinner Alone!