I Am That Merry Wanderer Of The

Preferred Three Hours Quicker Over One Moment Late.

Speak To Me As To Thy Thinkings, As Thou Dost Ruminate, And Give Thy Worst Of Thoughts The Worst Of Words.

Out, Damned Spot! Out, I Say!

Unless The Old Adage Must Be Verified, That Beggars Mounted, Run Their Horse To Death.

A Sad Tale's Best For Winter. I Have One Of Sprites And Goblins.