One's Religion Is Whatever He Is Most

For When You Looked Into My Mother's Eyes You Knew, As If He Had Told You, Why God Sent Her Into The World - It Was To Open Then Minds Of All Who Looked To Beautiful Thoughts. And That Is The Beginning And End Of Literature.

I Bowl So Slowly That If I Don't Like A Ball I Can Run After It And Bring It Back

You Were Hidden Behind Walls Of Ice; No Man Had Passed Them; I Broke Them Down And Love Leapt To Love, And You Lie Here, My Beautiful, Love In The Arms Of Its Lover.

Times Have Changed Since A Certain Author Was Executed For Murdering His Publisher. They Say That When The Author Was On The Scaffold He Said Good-bye To The Minister And To The Reporters, And Then He Saw Some Publishers Sitting In The Front Row Below, And To Them He Did Not Say Good-bye. He Said Instead, "i'll See You Again."

See," He Said, "the Arrow Struck Against This. It Is The Kiss I Gave Her. It Has Saved Her Life.