Expect Everything, I Always Say,

For Instance," Said The Boy Again, "if Christmas Trees Were People And People Were Christmas Trees, We'd All Be Chopped Down, Put Up In The Living Room, And Covered In Tinsel, While The Trees Opened Our Presents." "what Does That Have To Do With It?" Asked Milo. "nothing At All," He Answered, "but It's An Interesting Possibility, Don't You Think?

A Slavish Concern For The Composition Of Words Is The Sign Of A Bankrupt Intellect. Be Gone, Odious Wasp! You Smell Of Decayed Syllables.

Many Of The Things Which Can Never Be, Often Are.

He Paused Again As A Tear Of Longing Rolled From Cheek To Lip With The Sweet-salty Taste Of An Old Memory.

What You Can Do Is Often Simply A Matter Of What You Will Do.