It Is Cremated Youth. It Is All

Art, It Seems To Me, Should Simplify.

In Little Towns, Lives Roll Along So Close To One Another; Loves And Hates Beat About, Their Wings Almost Touching.

The Prayers Of All Good People Are Good.

Merely Having Seen The Season Change In A Country Gave One The Sense Of Having Been There For A Long Time.

All Southern Women Wished Of Their Menfolk Was Simply To Be 'like Paris Handsome And Like Hector Brave'.