I'm like a backward berry, Unripened on the vine, For all my friends are fifty, And I'm only forty-nine.

This is my dream, It is my own dream, I dreamt it. I dreamt that my hair was kempt. Then I dreamt that my true love unkempt it.

Then here's to the heartening wassail, Wherever good fellows are found; Be its master instead of its vassal, and order the glasses around.

Humor is hope's companion in arms. It is not brash, it is not cheap, it is not heartless. Among other things I think humor is a shield, a weapon, a survival kit.

Commitments the voters don't know about can't hurt you.

Progress might have been all right once, but it's gone on too long.

Humor is the best means of surviving in a difficult world.