Hours Are Golden Links--god's Tokens Reaching Heaven.

And A Beautiful World We Live In, When It Is Possible, And When Many Other Such Things Are Possible, And Not Only Possible, But Done-- Done, See You!-- Under That Sky There, Every Day.

Prowling About The Rooms, Sitting Down, Getting Up, Stirring The Fire, Looking Out The Window, Teasing My Hair, Sitting Down To Write, Writing Nothing, Writing Something And Tearing It Up...

It Is A Pleasant Thing To Reflect Upon, And Furnishes A Complete Answer To Those Who Contend For The Gradual Degeneration Of The Human Species, That Every Baby Born Into The World Is A Finer One Than The Last.

He Had But One Eye, And The Popular Prejudice Runs In Favor Of Two.

The Great Grindstone, Earth, Had Turned When Mr. Lorry Looked Out Again, And The Sun Was Red On The Courtyard. But, The Lesser Grindstone Stood Alone There In The Calm Morning Air, With Red Upon It That The Sun Had Never Give, And Would Never Take Away.