Christmas May Not Bring A Single Thing;

I Loved You Madly; In The Distasteful Work Of The Day, In The Wakeful Misery Of The Night, Girded By Sordid Realities, Or Wandering Through Paradises And Hells Of Visions Into Which I Rushed, Carrying Your Image In My Arms, I Loved You Madly.

Things Cannot Be Expected To Turn Up Of Themselves. We Must In A Measure Assist To Turn Them Up

Thus, It Comes To Pass, That A Certain Room In A Certain Old Hall, Where A Certain Bad Lord, Baronet, Knight, Or Gentleman, Shot Himself, Has Certain Planks In The Floor From Which The Blood Will Not Be Taken Out. You May Scrape And Scrape, As The Present Owner Has Done, Or Plane And Plane, As His Father Did, Or Scrub And Scrub, As His Grandfather Did, Or Burn And Burn With Strong Acids, As His Great-grandfather Did, But, There The Blood Will Still Be - No Redder And No Paler - No More And No Less - Always Just The Same.

Battledore And Shuttlecock's A Wery Good Game, Vhen You An't The Shuttlecock And Two Lawyers The Battledores, In Which Case It Gets Too Exciting To Be Pleasant.

A Smattering Of Everything, And A Knowledge Of Nothing.