If We Had Some Eggs We Could

Politics Doesn't Make Strange Bedfellows - Marriage Does.

I Was So Long Writing My Review That I Never Got Around To Reading The Book.

Firefly: Where Is Your Husband? Mrs. Teasdale: Why, He's Dead. Firefly: I'll Bet He's Just Using That As An Excuse. Mrs. Teasdale: I Was With Him To The Very End. Firefly: Hmmph. No Wonder He Passed Away. Mrs. Teasdale: I Held Him In My Arms And Kissed Him. Firefly: Oh I See. Then, It Was Murder.

Now That You're Secretary Of War, What Kind Of An Army Do You Think We Ought To Have?

The Admission Fee Was A Viper's Tongue And A Half-concealed Stiletto. It Was A Sort Of Intellectual Slaughterhouse.