The past is an old armchair in the attic, the present an ominous ticking sound, and the future is anybody's guess.
What would you do without me? Say 'nothing.'" "Nothing," said the Prince. "Good. Then you're helpless and I'll help you.
Well, if I called the wrong number, why did you answer the phone?
Progress was all right. Only it went on too long.
For one thing, she pronounced flowers 'flars' and I couldn't let it slide.
With sixty staring me in the face, I have developed inflammation of the sentence structure and definite hardening of the paragraphs.