Why Is It That Words Like These

Absence, The Highest Form Of Presence.

Man And Woman, Love, What Is It? A Cork And A Bottle.

And When All Was Said And Done The Lies A Fellow Told About Himself Couldn't Probably Hold A Proverbial Candle To The Wholesale Whoppers Other Fellows Coined About Him.

He Passes, Struck By The Stare Of Truculent Wellington But In The Convex Mirror Grin Unstruck The Bonham Eyes And Fatchuck Cheekchops Of Jollypoldy The Rixdix Doldy.

When The Soul Of A Man Is Born In This Country There Are Nets Flown At It To Hold It Back From Flight.