The burnt child, urged by rankling ire, Can hardly wait to get back at the fire.
When I remember bygone days I think how evening follows morn So many I loved were not yet dead, So many I love were not yet born.
I have an idea that the phrase weaker sex was coined by some woman to disarm some man she was preparing to overwhelm.
My garden will never make me famous, I'm a horticultural ignoramus.
Bankers are just like anybody else, only richer
The further through life I drift the more obvious it becomes that I am lacking in thrift.