Oh God, If You Want Women To

Death Holds No Horrors. It Is Simply The Ultimate Horror Of Life.

I Remember A Time When A Cabbage Could Sell Itself By Being A Cabbage. Nowadays It’s No Good Being A Cabbage – Unless You Have An Agent And Pay Him A Commission. Nothing Is Free Anymore To Sell Itself Or Give Itself Away. These Days, Countess, Every Cabbage Has Its Pimp.

Men Should Only Believe Half Of What Women Say. But Which Half?

Falsehood Is The Jockey Of Misfortune.

To Make Ourselves Invisible To Creditors Or To The Envious, And Even To Our Own Worries, We Can Take Advantage Here On Earth Of A Great Democratic Institution-in Fact, Democracy's Only Success-the Night.