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More Toasts by Unknown
page 55 of 1010 (05%)
calkilate th' distance av a shtarr, its weight, and dinsity and color
and all thot--but th' thing thot gets me is, how th' divvle do they
know its _name_."


I think the stars do nod at me,
But not when people are about;
For they regard me curiously
Whenever I go out.

Brothers, what is it ye mean,
What is it ye try to say.
That so earnestly ye lean
From the spirit to the clay?

I may have been a star one day,
One of the rebel host that fell,
And they are nodding down to say.
Come back to us from hell.




AUTHORS


A clever author is one who never asks what they are saying when he is
told that everybody is talking about his latest book.


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