It is remarkable what fine hands men of genius write, even when they are as awkward in all other uses of the hand as a cow with a musket.

Hot July brings cooling showers, Apricots and gillyflowers.

January brings the snow, makes our feet and fingers glow.

Chill December brings the sleet, Blazing fire, and Christmas treat.

June brings tulips, lilies, roses, Fills the children's hands with posies.

Dull November brings the blast, Then the leaves are whirling fast.

April brings the primrose sweet, / Scatters daisies at our feet.

The Poplar grows up straight and tall, The Pear-tree spreads along the wall

there is nothing so uncertain and slippery as fact.

The desire to be the object of public attention is weak, but the excessive dread of it is but a form of vanity and over-self-contemplativeness.

February brings the rain, Thaws the frozen lake again.

True beauty could be discovered only by one who mentally complete the incomplete.

Punpun was just fine again today.

As a novelist, I tell stories and people give me money. Then financial planners tell me stories and I give them money.

Owl hasn't exactly got Brain, but he Knows Things.

The moment good taste knows itself, some of its goodness is lost.

Now we're in an age of singles. It's actually always been more about singles for most of music history.

States created markets. Markets require states. Neither could continue without the other, at least, in anything like the forms we would recognize today.

I like my politicians and my judges and my lawyers to be simple. I think if you worry about where your hemline is you're really not concentrating on the world crisis.

They who dare to ask anything of a friend, by their very request seem to imply that they would do anything for the sake of that friend.

Certainly, people like Gaga have introduced a new type of hat-wearing.