#Americans #XXCentury
Master I may be, But not of my fate. Now come the kisses, too many too… Tell me, O Parcae, For fain would I know,
One thing that literature would be… Would be a more restricted employm… metaphor. Authors of all races, be they Gre… Can’t seem just to say that anythi…
O all ye exorcizers come and exorcize now, and ye clergymen draw nigh and clerge, For I wish to be purged of an urge. It is an irksome urge, compounded of nettles and glue, And it is...
The summer like a rajah dies, And every widowed tree Kindles for Congregationalist eye… An alien suttee.
It is common knowledge to every sc… That all sin is divided into two p… One kind of sin is called a sin of… And it is what you are doing when… And the other kind of sin is just…
Some primal termite knocked on woo… And tasted it, and found it good! And that is why your Cousin May Fell through the parlor floor toda…
The wasp and all his numerous fami… I look upon as a major calamity. He throws open his nest with prodi… But I distrust his waspitality.
How wise I am to have instructed… I am about to volunteer a definiti… Just as I know that there are two… I know that marriage is a legal an… Moreover, just as I am unsure of…
I would live all my life in noncha… Were it not for making a living, w…
The people upstairs all practise b… Their living room is a bowling all… Their bedroom is full of conducted… Their radio is louder than yours, They celebrate week-ends all the w…
To keep your marriage brimming, With love in the loving cup, Whenever you’re wrong, admit it; Whenever you’re right, shut up.
When people aren’t asking question… They’re making suggestions And when they’re not doing one of… They’re either looking over your s… And then as if that weren’t enough…
Husbands are things that wives have to get used to putting up with. And with whom they breakfast with and sup with. They interfere with the discipline of nurseries, They ...
The turtle lives twixt plated deck… Which practically conceal its sex. I think it clever of the turtle In such a fix to be so fertile.
There is a knocking in the skull, An endless silent shout Of something beating on a wall, And crying, “Let me out!” That solitary prisoner
