Lots of cosy sky That God and I can share. I need air. I need air.
A schedule so tight that it would only work if I didn't sleep on Monday nights.
It's not a pretty face, I grant you. But underneath its flabby exterior is an enormous lack of character.
There's a smile on my face for the whole human race.
Mud can make you prisoner and the plains can make you dry. Snow can burn your eyes but only people make you cry.
Why can't the English teach their children how to speak?