My Wife Has A Whim Of Iron.

The Elf And The Dormouse Under A Toadstool Crept A Wee Elf, Out Of The Rain To Shelter Himself. Under The Toadstool, Sound Asleep, Sat A Big Dormouse All In A Heap. Trembled The Wee Elf, Frightened And Yet Fearing To Fly Away Lest He Get Wet. To The Next Shelter-maybe A Mile! Sudden The Wee Elf Smiled A Wee Smile. Tugged Till The Toadstool Toppled In Two. Holding It Over Him, Gaily He Flew. Soon He Was Safe Home, Dry As Could Be. Soon Woke The Dormouse-"good Gracious Me!" "where Is My Toadstool?" Loud He Lamented. -and That's How Umbrellas First Were Invented.

Age, Like Distance Lends A Double Charm.

A Rolling Stone Gathers No Moss, But It Gains A Certain Polish.

Song Is The Licensed Medium For Bawling In Public Things Too Silly Or Sacred To Be Uttered In Ordinary Speech.

If Some People Got Their Rights They Would Complain Of Being Deprived Of Their Wrongs.