Mother, May I Go And Maffick, Tear

People Talk Vaguely About The Innocence Of A Little Child, But They Take Mighty Good Care Not To Let It Out Of Their Sight For Twenty Minutes.

His Socks Compelled One's Attention Without Losing One's Respect.

You Evidently Feel That Brevity Is The Soul Of Widowhood.

Every Reformation Must Have Its Victims. You Can’t Expect The Fatted Calf To Share The Enthusiasm Of The Angels Over The Prodigal’s Return.

Why Are Women So Fond Of Raking Up The Past? They're As Bad As Tailors, Who Invariably Remember What You Owe Them For A Suit Long After You've Ceased To Wear It.