Desultory Readers Are Seldom Remarkable For The

I Get In The Dumps At Times, And Don't Open My Mouth For Days On End. You Must Not Think I Am Sulky When I Do That. Just Let Me Alone, And I'll Soon Be Right.

I Should Dearly Love That The World Should Be Ever So Little Better For My Presence. Even On This Small Stage We Have Our Two Sides, And Something Might Be Done By Throwing All One's Weight On The Scale Of Breadth, Tolerance, Charity, Temperance, Peace, And Kindliness To Man And Beast. We Can't All Strike Very Big Blows, And Even The Little Ones Count For Something.

If I Could Be Assured Of Your Destruction, I Would In The Interest Of The Public, Cheerfully Accept My Death.

The Sky Was Of The Deepest Blue, With A Few White, Fleecy Clouds Drifting Lazily Across It, And The Air Was Filled With The Low Drone Of Insects Or With A Sudden Sharper Note As Bee Or Bluefly Shot Past With Its Quivering, Long-drawn Hum, Like An Insect Tuning-fork.

A Study In Scarlet, Eh? Why Shouldn't We Use A Little Art Jargon? There's The Scarlet Thread Of Murder Running Through The Colourless Skein Of Life, And Our Duty Is To Unravel It, And Isolate It, And Expose Every Inch Of It.