There was a man in our town who ha… He gave away his millions to the c… And people cried: “The hypocrite!… The ones who really need him are t… When Andrew Croesus built a home…

(An Apartmental Ditty.) Mine be a flat beside the Hill; A vendor’s cry shall soothe my ear A landlord shall present his bill At least a dozen times a year.

In 1909 toilet goods were not cons… In 1919 an assortment of perfumes… —From “How the Farmer Has Change… Maud Muller, on a summer’s day, Powdered her nose with Bon Sachet…

All stark and cold the merchant la… All cold and stark lay he. And who hath killed the fair merch… Now tell the truth to me. Oh, I have killed this fair merch…

We were very tired, we were very m… We had gone back and forth all nig… It was bare and bright, and smelle… But we looked into a fire, we lean… We lay on a hilltop underneath the…

Jenny kissed me in a dream; So did Elsie, Lucy, Cora, Bessie, Gwendolyn, Eupheme, Alice, Adelaide, and Dora. Say of honour I’m devoid,

“Gentle Jane was as good as gold,… To borrow a line from Mr. Gilbert… She hated War with a hate untold, She was a pacifistic filbert. If you said “Perhaps”—she’d leave…

[And here is a suggestion: Did you ever try dictating your stories or articles to the dictaphone for the first draft? I would be glad to have you come down and make the experiment.—From...

Propertius: Elegy VIII, Part 1 “Tune igitur demens nec te mea cur… O Cynthia, hast thou lost thy min… Have I no claim on thine affectio… Dost love the chill Illyrian wind

I do not hold with him who thinks The world is jonahed by a jinx; That everything is sad and sour, And life a withered hothouse flowe… I hate the Polyanna pest

Horace: Book I, Ode 19 “Mater sæva Cupidinum” Venus, the cruel mother of The Cupids (symbolising Love), Bids me to muse upon and sigh

“Nam nihil est, quod non mortalibu… —PETRONIUS Nothing there is that mortal man m… What in our wealth we treasured, i… The gold upon a sinking ship has o…

(The man who wants the perfect wif… ‘stock-size.’ She comes cheaper.-_… Ah, Myrtilla, woe and dear me! Lackadaydee and alas! What is this, I greatly fear me,

I thought that I was wholly free, That I had Love upon the shelf; “Hereafter,” I declared in glee, “I’ll have my evenings to myself.” How can such mortal beauty live?