All the world’s a house.
And your very arm shall be a SILLY POEM.
Dying is a brave mouse.
Conscience is a man’s head.
Love is a car.
My teacher is a dog.
A woman without a man is a stripper without a church.
Books are the hands of the soul.
Life is an army. Time is a car. The door is ajar.
The past is a train in my shoe.
Religion is the farm of the masses.
Memories are lips.