When the idle poor, Become the idle rich, You'll never know, Just who is who, Or who is which.

Ding-dong, the wicked witch is dead.

There ought to be a law against necessity.

April in Paris, chestnuts in blossom, holiday tables under the trees.

They who meet on an April night are forever lost in love, if there's moonlight all about and there's no moon above.

Once I built a railroad; now it's done. Brother, can you spare a dime?

How are things in Glocca Mora this fine day?