Evie Didn’t Mind Yelling, But

A Pair Of Blue Noses On The Next Bench Glared Their Disapproval At Evie’s Knee-length Dress. Evie Decided To Give Them A Real Show. She Hiked Her Skirt And, Humming Jauntily, Rolled Down Her Stockings, Exposing Her Legs. It Had The Desired Effect On The Blue Noses, Who Moved Down The Platform, Clucking About The “disgrace Of The Young.” She Would Not Miss This Place.

We're Still Expected To Color Within The Lines Of Accepted Femininity, And Women Who Step Out Of Those Lines Are Usually Attacked, Whether Verbally Or Physically.

Reality Is A State Of Mind. To The Banker, The Money In His Ledger Book Is All Very Real, Though He Doesn't Actually See It Or Touch It. But To The Brahma, It Simply Doesn't Exist The Way The Air And The Earth, Pain And Loss Do. To Him, The Banker's Reality Is Folly. To The Banker, The Brahma's Ideas Are As Inconsequential As Dust.

Naughty John, Naughty John, Does His Work With His Apron On. Cuts Your Throat And Takes Your Bones, Sells 'em Off For A Coupla Stones.

What Do You Feel? I’ve Never Been Asked This Question Once. None Of Us Has. We Aren’t Supposed To Feel. We’re British.