Peace to these little broken leaves, That strew our common ground; That chase their tails, like silly dogs, As they go round and round. For though in winter boughs are bare, Let us not once forget Their summer glory, when these leaves Caught the great Sun in their strong net; And made him, in the lower air, Tremble - no bigger than a star!

But cats to me are strange, so strange I cannot sleep if one is near.

Teetotallers lack the sympathy and generosity of men that drink.

I love thee for a heart that’s kind--not for the knowledge in thy mind.

No matter where the body is, the mind is free to go elsewhere.

Now shall I walk or shall I ride? 'Ride,' Pleasure said; 'Walk,' Joy replied.

It was the rainbow gave thee birth, and left thee all her lovely hues.