Summer makes me drowsy. Autumn makes me sing. Winter's pretty lousy, but I hate Spring.

Take me or leave me; or, as is the usual order of things, both.

Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song

It turns out that, at social gatherings, as a source of entertainment, conviviality, and good fun, I rank somewhere between a sprig of parsley and a single ice-skate.

The sun's gone dim, and the moon's gone black. For I loved him, and he didn't love back.

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

Innocence is a desirable thing, a dainty thing, an appealing thing, in its place; but carried too far, it is merely ridiculous.