I've got the brain of a four year old. I'll bet he was glad to be rid of it.
Practically everybody in New York has half a mind to write a book, and does.
I don't want to join the kind of a club that accepts people like me as members.
The admission fee was a viper's tongue and a half-concealed stiletto. It was a sort of intellectual slaughterhouse.
Anybody who doesn't like this book is healthy
Love flies out the door when money comes innuendo.