I canโt explain what I mean. And even if I could, Iโm not sure Iโd feel like it.
If I were a piano player, I'd play it in the goddam closet.
Certain things, they should stay the way they are. You ought to be able to stick them in one of those big glass cases and just leave them alone.
Your heart, Bessie, is an autumn garage.
Give me an honest con man any day.
I am a kind of paranoid in reverse. I suspect people of plotting to make me happy.