Boughs Are Daily Rifled By The Gusty

It Was Not In The Winter Our Loving Lot Was Cast! It Was The Time Of Roses, We Plucked Them As We Passed!

Apothegms Form A Short Cut To Much Knowledge.

The Year's In Wane; There Is Nothing Adorning; The Night Has No Eve, And The Day Has No Morning; Cold Winter Gives Warning!

The Best Of Friends Fall Out, And So His Teeth Had Done Some Years Ago.

For My Part, Getting Up Seems Not So Easy By Half As Lying.