Tiny Fists Can Hurt Quite A Lot

We Kings Do Develop A Certain Ability To Recognize Objects Under Our Noses.

Oh,' She Said, Too Bone-weary To Pretend: 'i Would Far Rather That I Love You As I Saw Yesterday I Do Than That I Had Gone On Worshiping You As I Did Not Long Since.' And She Turned Away Hastily, And Did Not See That Little John Would Reach Out To Her; And Half-running, Went To Tuck's Cottage, Where She Could Pull On Her Half-dry Clothes, And Become A Proper Outlaw Again. At Least, She Thought, Fighting Back Tears, Like This I Am Cecil, With A Place Among Friends, And A Task To Do. I Am Someone. I Wonder If Perhaps If I Am No Longer Cecil, I Am No One At All.

I Long For Another Human Face Just As I Fear It.

The Bus Timetable Sites Are All Run By An Inbred Cabal Of Malicious Gnomes. Who Don’t Speak English. And Who Don’t Count Very Well Either. Or Tell Time. And They Certainly Can’t Read Maps.

I Said With Perfect Honest, "i Have No Intention Of Trying To Take These Suckers Out By Myself, No.