We Americans Are The Peculiar, Chosen People

It Is The Horrible Texture Of A Fabric That Should Be Woven Of Ships' Cables And Hawsers. A Polar Wind Blows Through It, And Birds Of Prey Hover Over It.

I Am Madness Maddened! That Wild Madness That's Only Calm To Comprehend Itself

I Would Prefer Not To.

I Never Fancied Broiling Fowls; - Though Once Broiled, Judiciously Buttered, And Judgmatically Salted And Peppered, There Is No One Who Will Speak More Respectfully, Not To Say Reverentially, Of A Broiled Fowl Than I Will.

Who In The Rainbow Can Draw The Line Where The Violet Tint Ends And The Orange Tint Begins?