There's Ways And Ways Of Dyin'. Some

In The World It Is Called Tolerance, But In Hell It Is Called Despair...the Sin That Believes In Nothing, Cares For Nothing, Seeks To Know Nothing, Interferes With Nothing, Enjoys Nothing, Hates Nothing, Finds Purpose In Nothing, Lives For Nothing, And Remains Alive Because There Is Nothing For Which It Will Die.

However Entrancing It Is To Wander Unchecked Through A Garden Of Bright Images, Are We Not Enticing Your Mind From Another Subject Of Almost Equal Importance?

I Think This Co-operative Scheme Is An Uncommonly Good One. It's Much Easier To Work On Someone Else's Job Than One's Own - Gives One That Delightful Feelin' Of Interferin' And Bossin' About, Combined With The Glorious Sensation That Another Fellow Is Takin' All One's Own Work Off One's Hands.

But To Lord Peter The World Presented Itself As An Entertaining Labyrinth Of Side-issues

Every Great Man Has A Woman Behind Him ... And Every Great Woman Has Some Man Or Other In Front Of Her, Tripping Her Up.