There was a Young Girl of Majorca,
Whose aunt was a very fast walker;
She walked seventy miles,
And leaped fifteen stiles,
Which astonished that Girl of Majorca.
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Quotes of the Day
Love does not begin and end the way we seem to think it does. Love is a battle, love is a war; love is a growing up.
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Witlaf, a king of the Saxons,
Ere yet his last he breathed,
To the merry monks of Croyland
His drinking-horn bequeathed,--
That, whenever they sat at their revels,
And drank from the golden bowl,