Miserable Mortals Who Like Leaves At One

…but There They Lay, Sprawled Across The Field, Craved Far More By The Vultures Than By Wives.

A Boy Without Mischief Is Like A Bowling Ball Without A Liquid Center.

What So Tedious As A Twice-told Tale?

There Is Satiety In All Things, In Sleep, And Love-making, In The Loveliness Of Singing And The Innocent Dance.

One Who Journeying Along A Way He Knows Not, Having Crossed A Place Of Drear Extent, Before Him Sees A River Rushing Swiftly Toward The Deep, And All Its Tossing Current White With Foam, And Stops And Turns, And Measures Back His Way.