A Policeman's Lot Is Not A Happy

The Idiot Who Praises, With Enthusiastic Tone, All Centuries But This, And Every Country But His Own.

It Isn't So Much What's On The Table That Matters, As What's On The Chairs.

On My Face Extended Flat I Was Walloped With A Cat For Listening At The Key-hole Of The Door.

In Short, Whoever You May Be, To This Conclusion You'll Agree, When Every One Is Somebodee, Then No One's Anybody!

No Good Play Is A Success; Fine Writing And High Morals Are Useless On The Stage. I Have Been Scribbling Twaddle For Thirty-five Years To Suit The Public Taste, And I Should Know.