Everybody's got their troubles.
Bewildered is the fox who lives to find that grapes beyond reach can be really sour.
London is satisfied, Paris is resigned, but New York is always hopeful.
Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song, a medley of extemporanea, And love is a thing that can never go wrong, and I am Marie of Romania.
Hollywood money isn't money. It's congealed snow, melts in your hand, and there you are.
Accursed from their birth they be Who seek to find monogamy, Pursuing it from bed to bed— I think they would be better dead.