Any Honest Housewife Would Sort

The Award Of A Pure Gold Medal For Poetry Would Flatter The Recipient Unduly: No Poem Ever Attains Such Carat Purity.

I Revise The Manuscript Till I Can't Read It Any Longer, Then I Get Somebody To Type It. Then I Revise The Typing. Then It's Retyped Again. Then There's A Third Typing, Which Is The Final One. Nothing Should Then Remain That Offends The Eye.

Children Born Of Fairy Stock Never Need For Shirt Or Frock, Never Want For Food Or Fire, Always Get Their Heart's Desire.

Love Is Universal Migraine, A Bright Stain On The Vision Blotting Out Reason. Symptoms Of True Love Are Leanness, Jealousy, Laggard Dawns; Are Omens And Nightmares - Listening For A Knock, Waiting For A Sign: For A Touch Of Her Fingers In A Darkened Room, For A Searching Look. Take Courage, Lover! Could You Endure Such Pain At Any Hand But Hers?

Faults In English Prose Derive Not So Much From Lack Of Knowledge, Intelligence Or Art As From Lack Of Thought, Patience Or Goodwill.