I’m all shook up. You left me out: The King! Compared to me, A Verse Player’s Lion, that black hole-pokin’ physicist Stephen Hawking ain’t nuthin’ but A Knight’s Nephew.
Don’t be cruel,
Elvis Aaron Presley (deceased)
 
So the rumour is true – I’m not in your book! It was kind of you to include Margaret Wise Brown (I do so love authors!). She may be a Wiser Wombat Ranger; I, however, am Ms. Rain Poppy.
Practically perfect in every way,
Mary Poppins
 
You can’t imagine how unfair it feels to go down in history as the Scourge of God, when, in fact, I turn out to be the Hula Titan! Hell, Noah Webster’s Bone Wreaths blanch in comparison to my ossuarial accomplishments. I have a sense of humor, too!
Cordially,
Attila the Hun
 
Dude, you left me out! Sure, that puny prehistoric troglodyte Lucy A. afarensis is a Fancy Alias User; I’m a Gleeful, Riper Playpen Poet, and I can fly, and I’m purple, etc.
Yours till Niagara Falls,
(The One-Eyed, One-Horned) Flying Purple People-Eater
 
It is my feather’d hope that you’ll commemorate me in a revised edition. ’Tis granted that Writing Demands Muscle, but admit it: Melodic, Inky Sin is far jocoser than e.e. cummings’s mischievous moniker.
Ashore, upon the Other Side,
(Miss) Emily Dickinson
 
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