Man is a victim of dope in the incurable form of hope.
I hope my tongue in prune juice smothers, If I belittle dogs and mothers.
I would live all my life in nonchalance and insouciance, were it not for making living, which is rather a nouciance.
A bit of talcum Is always walcum.
Life is not having been told that the man has just waxed the floor.
The only way I can distinguish proper from improper fractions is by their actions