Life Is Too Fleet For Onomatopoeia.

Years On End, And Swords On End - Where Will It End, If Our Ears Unbend - What Shall I Spend On A Wrinkled Friend In A Pair Of Tights Like A Bunch Of Lights?

When He At Least Reached The Door The Handle Had Cease To Vibrate. Lowering Himself Suddenly To His Knees He Placed His Head And The Vagaries Of His Left Eye (which Was For Ever Trying To Dash Up And Down The Vertical Surface Of The Door), He Was Able By Dint Of Concentration To Observe, Within Three Inches Of His Keyholed Eye, An Eye Which Was Not His, Being Not Only Of A Different Colour To His Own Iron Marble, But Being, Which Is More Convincing, On The Other Side Of The Door.

The Earth Swirls Down Through The Ominous Moons Of Preconsidered Generations.

I Am Clever Enough To Know That I Am Clever.

Seeing An Earl As An Owl On A Mantelpiece, And Having Part Of One's Face Removed By A Cat, Both On The Same Morning, Can Temporarily Undermine The Self-control Of Any Man.