Parks Are But Pavement Disguised With A

People Have Got That Ancient Prejudice So Firmly Rooted In Their Heads That One Mustn't Write Save At I The Dictation Of The Holy Spirit. I Tell You, Writing Is A Business.

Money Is Made At Christmas Out Of Holly And Mistletoe, But Who Save The Vendors Would Greatly Care If No Green Branch Were Procurable?

I Have The Happiness Of A Passing Moment, And What More Can Mortal Ask?

To Be At Other People's Orders Brings Out All The Bad In Me.

It Is The Mind Which Creates The World Around Us, And Even Though We Stand Side By Side In The Same Meadow, My Eyes Will Never See What Is Beheld By Yours, My Heart Will Never Stir To The Emotions With Which Yours Is Touched.