We have reason to be afraid. This is a terrible place.
Bats have no bankers and they do not drink and cannot be arrested and pay no tax and, in general, bats have it made.
Two daiquiris withdrew into a corner of a gorgeous room and one told the other a lie.
The artist is extremely lucky who is presented with the worst possible ordeal which will not actually kill him. At that point, he's in business.
This world is gradually becoming a place Where I do not care to be any more.
Praise will lead you to vanity, and blame will lead you to self-pity, and both are bad for writers.