A Good Cook Is The

What Is Companionship Where Nothing That Improves The Intellect Is Communicated, And Where The Larger Heart Contracts Itself To The Model And Dimension Of The Smaller?

Was Genius Ever Ungrateful? Mere Talents Are Dry Leaves, Tossed Up And Down By Gusts Of Passion, And Scattered And Swept Away; But, Genius Lies On The Bosom Of Memory, And Gratitude At Her Feet.

To My Ninth Decade I Have Totter'd On, And No Soft Arm Bends Now My Steps To Steady; She, Who Once Led Me Where She Would, Is Gone, So When He Calls Me, Death Shall Find Me Ready.

A Good Cook Is The Peculiar Gift Of The Gods. He Must Be A Perfect Creature From The Brain To The Palate, From The Palate To The Finger's End.

Circumstances Form The Character; But, Like Petrifying Matters, They Harden While They Form.