Letters From The Earth, by Mark Twain
> The Creator sat upon the throne, thinking. Behind him stretched the illimitable continent of heaven, steeped in a glory of light and color; before him »
> The Creator sat upon the throne, thinking. Behind him stretched the illimitable continent of heaven, steeped in a glory of light and color; before him »
> The moment I got a chance I slipped aside privately and touched an ancient common looking man on the shoulder and said, in an insinuating, »