#AmericanWriters
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…
He who is ridden by a conscience Worries about a lot of nonscience; He without benefit of scruples His fun and income soon quadruples…
I find it very hard to be fair-min… About people who go around being a… I just can’t see any fun In soaring up up up into the sun When the chances are still a fresh…
Sure, deck your limbs in pants; Yours are the limbs, my sweeting. You look divine as you advance— Have you seen yourself retreating?
Toward a better world I contribut… I eat the squab, lest it become a…
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 ...
Oh, weep for Mr. and Mrs. Bryan! He was eaten by a lion; Following which, the lion’s liones… Up and swallowed Bryan’s Bryaness…
In fourteen hundred and ninety-two… Someone sailed the ocean blue. Somebody borrowed the fare in Spa… For a business trip on the boundin… And to prove to the people, by act…
Senescence begins And middle age ends The day your descendents Outnumber your friends.
One would be in less danger From the wiles of a stranger If one’s own kin and kith Were more fun to be with.
Sure, deck your limbs in pants, Yours are the limbs, my sweeting. You look divine as you advance . .… Have you seen yourself retreating?
I’ve never seen an abominable snow… I’m hoping not to see one, I’m also hoping, if I do, That it will be a wee one.
My friends all know that I am shy… But the chipmunk is twice and shy… He moves with flickering indecisio… Like stripes across the television… He’s like the shadow of a cloud,
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,
Parsley Is gharsley.