The Same Fact That Boccaccio

On The Waves Of The Brook She Dances By, The Light, The Lovely Dragon-fly; She Dances Here, She Dances There, The Shimmering, Glimmering Flutterer Fair. And Many A Foolish Young Beetle's Impressed By The Blue Gauze Gown In Which She Is Dressed; They Admire The Enamel That Decks Her Bright, And Her Elegant Waist So Slim And Slight.

What Lies Lurk In Kisses.

Lyrical Poetry Is Much The Same An Every Age, As The Songs Of The Nightingales In Every Spring-time.

Music Is A Strange Thing. I Would Almost Say It Is A Miracle.

In Politics, As In Life, We Must Above All Things Wish Only For The Attainable.