The Devil's Most Devilish When Respectable.

But The Child's Sob Curses Deeper In The Silence Than The Strong Man In His Wrath!

There Shakespeare, On Whose Forehead Climb The Crowns O' The World; Oh, Eyes Sublime With Tears And Laughter For All Time!

You Smell A Rose Through A Fence: If Two Should Smell It, What Matter?

The Charm, One Might Say The Genius, Of Memory Is That It Is Choosy, Chancy And Temperamental; It Rejects The Edifying Cathedral And Indelibly Photographs The Small Boy Outside, Chewing A Hunk Of Melon In The Dust.

God Only, Who Made Us Rich, Can Make Us Poor.