Like God's Own Chocolate, I'd Lick Her

It Was An Eight-harlot Inn, If That's How You Measure An Inn. (i Understand That Now They Measure Inns In Stars. We Are In A Four-star Inn Right Now. I Don't Know What The Conversion From Harlots To Stars Is.)

It Turns Out That One Can Perpetrate All Manner Of Heinous Villainy Under A Cloak Of Courtesy And Good Cheer. . .a Man Will Forfeit All Sensible Self-interest If He Finds You Affable Enough To Share Your Company Over A Flagon Of Ale.

Don't Be Ridiculous, Charlie, People Love The Parents Who Beat Their Kids In Department Stores. It's The Ones Who Just Let Their Kids Wreak Havoc That Everybody Hates.

Charlie Asher: Mrs. Ling, Is That Duck Wearing Trousers? Mrs. Ling: Could Be . . . . You Hear Of Paper-wrap Chicken? This Duck In Pants.

So I Am Death" Charlie Said Then Turned To His Daughter While Buttering His Toast. "this Is Death Toast Sweety.