There Is No Fun In Doing Nothing

Cheese, Like Oil, Makes Too Much Of Itself.

It Is Very Strange, This Domination Of Our Intellect By Our Digestive Organs. We Cannot Work, We Cannot Think, Unless Our Stomach Wills So. It Dictates To Us Our Emotions, Our Passions.

The Proverbial Englishman, We Know From Old Chronicler Froissart, Takes His Pleasures Sadly, And The Englishwoman Goes A Step Further And Takes Her Pleasures In Sadness Itself.

Give An Average Baby A Fair Chance, And If It Doesn't Do Something It Oughtn't To A Doctor Should Be Called In At Once.

I Respect The Truth Too Much To Drag It Out On Every Occasion.