Funny, Isn't It, How Your Whole Life

The Feminine In The Man Is The Sugar In The Whisky. The Masculine In The Woman Is The Yeast In The Bread. Without These Ingredients The Result Is Flat, Without Tang Or Flavor.

In New York The Sky Is Bluer, And The Grass Is Greener, And The Girls Are Prettier, And The Steaks Are Thicker, And The Buildings Are Higher, And The Streets Are Wider, And The Air Is Finer, Than The Sky, Or The Grass, Or The Girls, Or The Steaks, Or The Air Of Any Place Else In The World.

Perhaps Too Much Of Everything Is As Bad As Too Little.

Your Idea Of Bliss Is To Wake Up On A Monday Morning Knowing You Haven't A Single Engagement For The Entire Week. You Are Cradled In A White Paper Cocoon Tied Up With Typewriter Ribbon.

Here In Texas Maybe We've Got Into The Habit Of Confusing Bigness With Greatness.