I get up every morning and read the obituary column. If my name's not there, I eat breakfast.
Happiness is a dry martini and a good woman ... or a bad woman.
Joy is obtaining a big, loving, caring shut-knit household in yet another town.
Everyday happiness means getting up in the morning, and you can't wait to finish your breakfast. You can't wait to do your exercises. You can't wait to put on your clothes. You can't wait to get out. And you can't wait to come home, because the soup is hot.
With the collapse of vaudeville new talent has no place to stink.
I can't understand why I flunked American history. When I was a kid there was so little of it.