Every maiden's weak and willin' When she meets the proper villian.

Tender are a mother's dreams, But her babe's not what he seems. See him plotting in his mind To grow up some other kind.

As time goes on, new and remoter aspects of truth are discovered which can seldom be fitted into creeds that are changeless.

Be adorable always to each other; respect is everlasting.

When eras die, their legacies Are left to strange police. Professors in New England guard The glory that was Greece.

Ants are good citizens; they place group interest first. But they carry it so far, they have few or no political rights. An ant doesn't have the vote, apparently; he just has his duties.

The artistic impulse seems not to wish to produce finished work. It certainly deserts us half-way, after the idea is born; and if we go on, it is labor.