Your Soul: Pure Glucose Edged With Hints

I Am Patient With Stupidity But Not With Those Who Are Proud Of It.

I Wish The Government Would Put A Tax On Pianos For The Incompetent.

My Personal Hobbies Are Reading, Listening To Music, And Silence.

The Busy Chatter Of The Heat Shrilled Like A Parakeet; And Shuddering At The Noonday Light The Dust Lay Dead And White As Powder On A Mummy's Face, Or Fawned With Simian Grace Round Booths With Many A Hard Bright Toy And Wooden Brittle Joy: The Cap And Bells Of Time The Clown That, Jangling, Whistled Down Young Cherubs Hidden In The Guise Of Every Bird That Flies; And Star-bright Masks For Youth To Wear, Lest Any Dream That Fare Bright Pilgrim Past Our Ken, Should See Hints Of Reality.

It Is Hardly Respectable To Be Good Nowadays.