In My More Pompous Moments I Like

I Loathe Writing. On The Other Hand I'm A Great Believer In Money.

Nature, It Appears, Has Been Rather More Bountiful To Paul's Body And Purse Than To His Intellect; Above The Ears, Speaking Bluntly, The Boy Is Strictly Tapioca.

Only The Scenario Writers Are Exempt. These Are Tied Between The Tails Of Two Spirited Caucasian Ponies, Which Are Then Driven Off In Opposite Directions. This Custom Is Called A Conference.

Where Would The Rockefellers Be Today If Old John D. Had Gone On Selling Short-weight Kerosene ... To Widows And Orphans Instead Of Wisely Deciding To Mulct The Whole Country.

There Is Such A Thing As Too Much Couth.