There Is In Writing The Constant Joy

The Book Of Genesis, A Farrago Of Nonsense So Wholly Absurd That Even Sunday-school Scholars Have To Be Threatened With Hell To Make Them Accept It.

If There Were Only Three Women Left In The World, Two Of Them Would Immediately Convene A Court-martial To Try The Other One.

As The Arteries Grow Hard, The Heart Grows Soft.

Democracy Is Also A Form Of Worship. It Is The Worship Of Jackals By Jackasses.

A Bad Artist Almost Always Tries To Conceal His Incompetence By Whooping Up A New Formula.