There Are Three Sides To Every Argument.

This Is An Age Of Scientific Wonders. You Miss Somebody So You Pick Up The Phone To Say Hello. Three Minutes For Sixty-five Cents. Nobody Goes Broke.

Mr. Bernard Died On A Monday, At The Age Of Seventy-five, His Body Wasted. He Lay In State For Two Days In The Lobby Of The Bernard Gursky Tower And, As He Failed To Rise On The Third, He Was Duly Buried.

I Have Always Been Skeptical Of Medical Orthodoxies, Because Sooner, Rather Than Later, So Many Of Them Are Turned On Their Heads. Or, Put Another Way, Providing You Are Prepared To Wait It Out, What Was Adjudged Bad For You Yesterday Is Likely To Prove Beneficial Today.

There Are Three Sides To Every Argument. Yours. The Other Guy's. And The Right Side.

Listen Your Lordship, I'm A Respecter Of Institutions. Even In Paris, I Remained A Canadian. I Puffed Hashish, But I Didn't Inhale.