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.
Take me or leave me; or, as is the usual order of things, both.
She runs the gamut of emotions from A to B.
Four things I am wiser to know: Idleness, sorrow, a friend, and a foe.
When your bank account is so overdrawn that it is positively photographic, steps must be taken.
London is satisfied, Paris is resigned, but New York is always hopeful.