If love is blind, why is lingerie so popular?

A little bad taste is like a nice dash of paprika.

I might repeat to myself . . . a list of quotations from minds profound - if I can remember any of the damn things.

Art is a form of catharsis.

Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song

My love runs by like a day in June, And he makes no friends of sorrows. He'll tread his galloping rigadoon In the pathway of the morrows. He'll live his days where the sunbeams start, Nor could storm or wind uproot him. My own dear love, he is all my heart, -- And I wish somebody'd shoot him.

I don't want to review books any more. It cuts in too much on my reading.