The Coffee Was Boiling Over

Poetry's Unnat'ral; No Man Ever Talked Poetry 'cept A Beadle On Boxin' Day.

I Took A Good Deal O' Pains With His Eddication, Sir; Let Him Run In The Streets When He Was Very Young, And Shift For Hisself. It's The Only Way To Make A Boy Sharp, Sir.

"next," Said Mrs Wilfer With A Wave Of Her Gloves, Expressive Of Abdication Under Protest From The Culinary Throne, "i Would Recommend Examination Of The Bacon In The Saucepan On The Fire, And Also Of The Potatoes By The Application Of A Fork. Preparation Of The Greens Will Further Become Necessary If You Persist In This Unseemly Demeanour."

In A Word, I Was Too Cowardly To Do What I Knew To Be Right, As I Had Been Too Cowardly To Avoid Doing What I Knew To Be Wrong.

Be Natural My Children. For The Writer That Is Natural Has Fulfilled All The Rules Of Art.