Though A Quarrel In The Streets Is

The Silver, Snarling Trumpets 'gan To Chide.

Talking Of Pleasure, This Moment I Was Writing With One Hand, And With The Other Holding To My Mouth A Nectarine - How Good How Fine. It Went Down All Pulpy, Slushy, Oozy, All Its Delicious Embonpoint Melted Down My Throat Like A Large, Beatified Strawberry.

Many A Time I Have Been Half In Love With Easeful Death.

Though A Quarrel In The Streets Is A Thing To Be Hated, The Energies Displayed In It Are Fine; The Commonest Man Shows A Grace In His Quarrel.

A Moment's Thought Is Passion's Passing Knell.