I fell in love, not deep, but I fell several times and then fell out.

It was here we turned the coffee cups upside down. And your eyes and the moon swept the valley.

Where was I going? I puzzled and wondered about it til I actually enjoyed the puzzlement and wondering.

There have been as many varieties of socialists as there are wild birds that fly in the woods and sometimes go up and on through the clouds.

So I turn once more to those who sneer at this my city, and I give them back the sneer and say to them: Come and show me another city with lifted head singing so proud to be alive and coarse and strong and cunning.

Didn't you tie the mittens on her feet (Wednesday Evening's) extra special nice? Yes--she is an extra special nice pigeon. She cries for pity when she wants pity. And she shuts her eyes when she doesn't want to look at you. And if you look deep in her eyes when her eyes are open you will see lights there exactly like the lights on the pastures and the meadows when the mist is drifting on a Wednesday evening just between the twilight and gloaming.

Newspapers tell beforehand what is going to happen - maybe.