We Call Them The Brave Who Likely

Concurring Hands Divide Flax For Damask That When Bleached By Irish Weather Has The Silvered Chamois-leather Water-tightness Of A Skin.

You're Not Free Until You've Been Made Captive By Supreme Belief.

If We Can't Be Cordial To These Creatures' Fleece, I Think That We Deserve To Freeze.

My Father Used To Say, "superior People Never Make Long Visits, Have To Be Shown Longfellows Grave, Or The Glass Flowers At Harvard."

The Sweet Air Coming Into Your House On A Fine Day, From Water Etched With Waves As Formal As The Scales On A Fish.