The pounding of the cylinders increased: ta-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa.

It had only one fault. It was kind of lousy.

Man is flying too fast for a world that is round. Soon he will catch up with himself in a great rear end collision.

A drawing is always dragged down to the level of its caption.

I drew pictures rapidly and with few lines, because I had to write most of the pieces, too, and couldn't monkey long with the drawings. The divine urge was no higher than that.

Where most of us end up there is no knowing, but the hellbent get where they are going.

Reason is 6/7 of treason.