The cosmos is about the smallest hole that a man can hide his head in.
Asking "who ought to be the boss" is like asking "who ought to be the tenor in the quartet?" Obviously,…
"That is another of your odd notions," said the Prefect, who had a fashion of calling everything "odd" that was…
We should never forget that of all the art forms, only the poem can be carried around in the brain…
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