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!
Candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker.
When you're wrong admit it, when you're right, shut up.
Remorse is violent dyspepsia of the mind.
The cow is of the bovine ilk: One end is moo, the other, milk.
How confusing the beams from memory's lamp are; One day a bachelor, the next a grampa. What is the secret of the trick? How did I get so old so quick?