If bumblebee leavings and stump paste are so good for you, why can't any of those guys (in the health stores) grow full beards?

In modern America, anyone who attempts to write satirically about the events of the day finds it difficult to concoct a situation so bizarre that it may not actually come to pass while his article is still on the presses.

I actually think of being funny as an odd turn of mind, like a mild disability, some weird way of looking at the world that you can't get rid of.

Being on a book tour is a lot easier than reporting.

It happens to be a matter of record that I was first in print with the discovery that the tastelessness of the food offered in American clubs varies in direct proportion to the exclusiveness of the club.

Perhaps we've time to have a look at the Number Thirty-One bus queue before we turn in.

Taking pleasure in the dark side may be some sort of occupational hazard for reporters.