Those who have mastered etiquette, who are entirely, impeccably right, would seem to arrive at a point of exquisite dullness.

My land is bare of chattering folk; / the clouds are low along the ridges, / and sweet's the air with curly smoke / from all my burning bridges.

Tonstant Weader fwowed up.

I shudder at the thought of men.... I'm due to fall in love again

(Scottish Terriers) have all the compactness of a small dog and all the valor of a big one. And they are so exceedingly sturdy that it is proverbial that the only thing fatal to them is being run over by an automobile - in which case the car itself knows it has been in a fight.

Most good women are hidden treasures who are only safe because nobody looks for them.

Time may be a great healer, but it's a lousy beautician.