All that the comedian has to show for his years of work and aggravation is the echo of forgotten laughter.
It is probably not love that makes the world go around, but rather those mutually supportive alliances through which partners recognize their dependence on each other for the achievement of shared and private goals.
Washington is no place for a good actor. The competition from bad actors is too great.
I'm going to Boston to see my doctor. He's a very sick man.
If I could get my membership fee back, I'd resign from the human race.
We are living in the machine age. For the first time in history the comedian has been compelled to supply himself with jokes and comedy material to compete with the machine. Whether he knows it or not, the comedian is on a treadmill to oblivion.