Life Is Too Short For Chess.

The Very Best Of Vineyards Is The Cellar

There Is No Traitor Like Him Whose Domestic Treason Plants The Poniard Within The Breast That Trusted To His Truth

This Is The Age Of Oddities Let Loose.

The Bright Sun Was Extinguish'd, And The Stars Did Wander Darkling In The Eternal Space.

And Mocha's Berry, From Arabia Pure, In Small Fine China Cups, Came In At Last. Gold Cups Of Filigree, Made To Secure The Hand From Burning, Underneath Them Place. Cloves, Cinnamon And Saffron, Too, Were Boiled Up With The Coffee, Which, I Think, They Spoiled.