Men Often Marry Their Mothers.

In New York The Sky Is Bluer, And The Grass Is Greener, And The Girls Are Prettier, And The Steaks Are Thicker, And The Buildings Are Higher, And The Streets Are Wider, And The Air Is Finer, Than The Sky, Or The Grass, Or The Girls, Or The Steaks, Or The Air Of Any Place Else In The World.

There's No Sauce For Play Like Work.

There Is An Interesting Resemblance In The Speeches Of Dictators, No Matter What Country They May Hail From Or What Language They May Speak.

Men Often Marry Their Mothers.

I Sometimes Wonder ... If The Land Is Not Destroying The People Who Inhabit It As The People Who Inhabit It Are Destroying The Land. A Magic Continent, A Peculiar Treasure, Stuffed With Riches, Millions In It Are Starving In The Midst Of Plenty.