The Appalling Thing Is The Degree Of

It Only Takes One Match To Ignite A Haystack, Or One Remark To Fire A Mind.

After All The Work Of The Philosophers On His Soul And The Doctors On His Body, What Can We Really Say We Know About A Man? That He Is, When All Is Said And Done, Just A Passage For Liquids And Solids, A Pipe Of Flesh.

Odd, Isn't It? He Really Was The Right Man For Her In A Sort Of Way; But Then As You Know, It Is A Law Of Love That The So-called 'right' Person Always Comes To Soon Or Too Late.

The Memory Of Man Is As Old As Misfortune

Of Women, The Most We Can Say, Not Being Frenchmen, Is That They Are Burrowing Animals.