What Is The City But The People?

Past And To Come, Seems Best; Things Present, Worse.

I Have Very Poor And Unhappy Brains For Drinking.

Adversity Makes Strange Bedfellows.

A Peevish Self-willed Harlotry It Is. *she’s A Stubborn Little Brat.*

He Capers, He Dances, He Has Eyes Of Youth, He Writes Verses, He Speaks Holiday, He Smells April And May.