'tis tramsported with grief I am this night sublime, as you may see by my size and my brow that's all forehead, to go forth, frank and hoppy, to the tune the old plow tied off, from our nostorey house, upon this benedictine … [Leer más...]
452.06-13 Una carta a Sisi
I'm not talking apple sauce eithou. Or up in my hat. I earnst. Schue! Sissibis dearest, as I was reading to myself not very long ago in Tennis Flonnels Mac Courther, his correspondance, besated upon my tripos, and just thinking like … [Leer más...]
451.34- 452. 06 Lo que no haría yo
Only for one thing that, how- over famiksed I would become, I'd be awful anxious, you under- stand, about shoepisser pluvious and in assideration of the terrible luftsucks woabling around with the hedrolics in the coold … [Leer más...]
451.22-34 Y lo que haría si se tomara una copa…
Holy petter and pal, I'd spoil you altogether, my sumptuous Sheila! Mumm all to do brut frull up fizz and unpop a few shortusians or shake a pale of sparkling ice, hear it swirl, happy girl! Not a spot of my hide but you'd love … [Leer más...]
451.17-22 !Me ofrezco, yo divino!
Bebold! Like Varian's balaying all behind me. And before you knew where you weren't, I stake my ignitial's divy, cash-and-cash-can-again, I'd be staggering humanity and loyally rolling you over, my sow- white sponse, in my tons … [Leer más...]