You hear a lot of dialogue on the death of the American family. Families aren't dying. They're merging into big conglomerates.

If I raised my hand to wipe the hair out of my children's eyes, they'd flinch and call their attorney.

Explain to me how he [her son] can ride a bicycle, run, play ball, set up a camp, swing, fight a war, swim and race for eight hours ... and has to be driven to the garbage can.

There's nothing sadder in this world than to awake Christmas morning and not be a child.

One never realizes how different a husband and wife can be until they begin to pack for a trip.

I've exercised with women so thin that buzzards followed them to their cars.

It is ludicrous to read the microwave direction on the boxes of food you buy, as each one will have a disclaimer: THIS WILL VARY WITH YOUR MICROWAVE. Loosely translated, this means, You're on your own, Bernice.