Fate Was Dealing From The Bottom Of

He Bit His Lip In A Manner Which Immediately Awakened My Maternal Sympathy, And I Helped Him Bite It.

There Is Such A Thing As Too Much Couth.

In My More Pompous Moments I Like To Think Of Myself As A Writer Rather Than A Humorist, But I Suppose That's Merely The Vanity Of Advancing Age.

Nature, It Appears, Has Been Rather More Bountiful To Paul's Body And Purse Than To His Intellect; Above The Ears, Speaking Bluntly, The Boy Is Strictly Tapioca.

I'm Half Scotch-irish On Both Sides, And When I Lose My Temper-brother, I Go.