Talent May Be In Time Forgiven, But

Since Eve Ate The Apple, Much Depends On Dinner.

Go Let Thy Less Than Woman's Hand Assume The Distaff Not The Brand.

Fill High The Cup With Samian Wine!

A Mighty Mass Of Brick, And Smoke, And Shipping, Dirty And Dusty, But As Wide As Eye Could Reach, With Here And There A Sail Just Skipping In Sight, Then Lost Amidst The Forestry Of Masts; A Wilderness Of Steeples Peeping On Tiptoe Through Their Sea-coal Canopy; A Huge, Dun Cupola, Like A Fools-cap Crown On A Fool's Head - And There Is London Town.

What Deep Wounds Ever Closed Without A Scar?