If I Die Before I Say 'i

Hodie Mihi Cras Tibi, Said The Inscription. Sic Transit Gloria Mundi. My Turn Today, Yours Tomorrow. And Thus Passes Away The Glory Of The World.

Lord That She Might Be Safe. She And My Children.

While The Lord Might Insist That Vengeance Was His, No Male Highlander Of My Acquaintance Had Ever Thought It Right That The Lord Should Be Left To Handle Such Things Without Assistance.

He Was Dead. However, His Nose Throbbed Painfully, Which He Thought Odd In The Circumstances.

Lying On The Floor, With The Carved Panels Of The Ceiling Flickering Dimly Above, I Found Myself Thinking That I Had Always Heretofore Assumed That The Tendency Of Eigh­teenth-century Ladies To Swoon Was Due To Tight Stays; Now I Rather Thought It Might Be Due To The Idiocy Of Eighteenth-century Men.