Our only hope rests on the off-chance that God does exist.
Evil and laughter cannot co-exist.
There seems to be a peculiar and particular tie between men who have been drunk together.
Death is the last enemy: once we've got past that I think everything will be alright.
things are never so indescribably ghastly that they can't get worse.
One can get very fond of the people one meets in bars. The trouble is they then appear sort of different in the daylight and you realize that taking them with you is rather like taking a goldfish for a walk: not entirely correct, and surprising for the next people you run into.