We of the craft are all crazy.
Between two worlds life hovers like a star, twixt night and morn, upon the horizon's verge.
All who joy would win must share it. Happiness was born a Twin.
The drying up a single tear has more, of honest fame, than shedding seas of gore.
The English winter - ending in July to recommence in August
I have imbibed such a love for money that I keep some sequins in a drawer to count, and cry over them once a week.