This Is The Gist Of What I

For The Hearts Of Nurses Are Solid Gold, / But Their Heels Are Flat And Their Hands Are Cold, / And Their Voices Lilt With A Lilt That's Falser / Than The Smile Of An Exhibition Waltzer. / Yes, Nurses Can Cure You, Nurses Restore You, / But Nurses Are Bound That They Do Things For You.

Not Reading Poetry Amounts To A National Pastime Here.

The Mass Of Men Live Lives Of Quiet Exasperation.

It's Hard / Keeping Up With The Avant-garde.

Women Like Other Women Fine. The More Feminine She Is, The More Comfortable A Woman Feels With Her Own Sex. It Is Only The Occasional And Therefore Noticeable Adventuress Who Refuses To Make Friends With Us.