Criticism And Bolshevism Have One Thing In

I'll Go Through Life Either First Class Or Third, But Never In Second.

To Know You Are Among People Whom You Love, And Who Love You – That Has Made All The Successes Wonderful, Much More Wonderful Than They'd Have Been Anyway.

Everybody Worships Me, It's Nauseating.

Never Trust A Man With Short Legs. His Brains Are Too Near His Bottom.

An Infant Prodigy Of Nine Is Shoved Upon The Stage In White. She Starts Off In A Dismal Whine About A Dark And Stormy Night, A Burglar, Whose Heart Is True, Despite His Wicked-looking Face, Who Puts The Little Child In Doom, To Save Her Mamma's Jewel Case. This May Bring Tears To Every Eye; It Does Not Set My Heart On Fire. I'd Like To Stand Serenely By And Watch That Horrid Child Expire.