And The Old Horror Of Being A

Some Game. If You Get On The Side Where All The Hot-shots Are, Then It's A Game, All Right - I'll Admit That. But If You Get On The Other Side, Where There Aren't Any Hot-shots, Then What's A Game About It? Nothing. No Game.

The Existence Of God, The Why Of Life, Was All That Really Only A Question Of Glands?

Your Heart, Bessie, Is An Autumn Garage.

Sensitive. That Killed Me. That Guy Morrow Was About As Sensitive As A Toilet Seat.

If You Sat Around There Long Enough And Heard All The Phonies Applauding And All, You Got To Hate Everybody In The World, I Swear You Did.