That Desert Of Loneliness And Recrimination That

Just Under The Surface I Shall Be, All Together At First, Then Separate And Drift, Through All The Earth And Perhaps In The End Through A Cliff Into The Sea, Something Of Me. A Ton Of Worms In An Acre, That Is A Wonderful Thought, A Ton Of Worms, I Believe It.

There's Man All Over For You, Blaming On His Boots The Fault Of His Feet.

Do We Mean Love, When We Say Love?

We Could Have Saved Sixpence. We Could Have Saved Fivepence. But At What Cost?

The End Is In The Beginning And Yet You Go On.