You Do Not Play Then At Whist,

His Voice Was The Most Obnoxious Squeak I Ever Was Tormented With.

A Garden Was The Primitive Prison, Till Man With Promethean Felicity And Boldness, Luckily Sinned Himself Out Of It.

The Laws Of Pluto's Kingdom Know Small Difference Between King And Cobbler, Manager And Call-boy; And, If Haply Your Dates Of Life Were Conterminant, You Are Quietly Taking Your Passage, Cheek By Cheek (o Ignoble Levelling Of Death) With The Shade Of Some Recently Departed Candle-snuffer.

Reader, If You Are Gifted With Nerves Like Mine, Aspire To Any Character But That Of A Wit.

An Album Is A Garden, Not For Show Planted, But Use; Where Wholesome Herbs Should Grow.