Fields' reply: He'd think I was a sissy.
All Englishmen talk as if they've got a bushel of plums stuck in their throats, and then after swallowing them get constipated from the pips.
It's quite true I'm not drinking anymore; however, I'm not drinking any less either.
Drown in a cold vat of whiskey? Death, where is thy sting?
Last week, I went to Philadelphia, but it was closed.
A merry Christmas to all my friends except two.