Marriage Is The Aftermath Of Love.

I Have A Memory Like An Elephant. In Fact, Elephants Often Consult Me.

Though The Fact That They Have To Be Rebuilt And Frequently Mortgaged To The Hilt Is Inclined To Take The Gilt Off The Gingerbread, And Certainly Damps The Fun Of The Eldest Son.

Exercise Is The Most Awful Illusion. The Secret Is A Lot Of Aspirin And Marrons Glaces.

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.

Marriage Is The Aftermath Of Love.