To See And Know The Worst Is

Even For Me Life Had Its Gleams Of Sunshine.

God Did Not Give Me My Life To Throw It Away.

Que Me Voulez-vous?' Said He In A Growl Of Which The Music Was Wholly Confined To His Chest And Throat, For He Kept His Teeth Clenched, And Seemed Registering To Himself An Inward Vow That Nothing Earthly Should Wring From Him A Smile. My Answer Commenced Uncompromisingly: - 'monsieur,' I Said, Je Veux L'impossible, Des Choses Inouïes.

The Soul, Fortunately, Has An Interpreter - Often An Unconscious, But Still A Truthful Interpreter - In The Eye.

What The Deuce Is To Do Now?