The cow is of the bovine ilk: One end is moo, the other, milk.

There has been a lot of progress during my lifetime, but I'm afraid it's heading in the wrong direction.

How easy for those who do not bulge to not overindulge!

Life is not having been told that the man has just waxed the floor.

And you stagger down to break your fast. Greasy bacon and lacquered eggs And coffee composed of frigid dregs.

Tonight's December thirty-first, something is about to burst. The clock is crouching, dark and small, like a time bomb in the hall. Hark, it's midnight, children dear. Duck! Here comes another year!

Do you think my mind is maturing late, or simply rotted early?