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.

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