We drift down time, clutching at straws. But what good's a brick to a drowning man?
Actually, it would be assumed that the young lady had no such impulses at all, but I’ll tell you something: Chocolate melts on my tongue too.
It’s one thing if a person learns you’re a witch. It’s quite another if he learns you’re a murderer. I almost forget I’m a witch now that I know I’m a murderer—murderess, actually. Murderess sounds so much worse.
You could at least complain,” I say. “I adore complaining. It calms the nerves.
A girl can have the face of an angel but have a horrid sort of heart.
I explained we lost the porch to the flood. Father hasn't gotten around to rebuilding it, although he's quite a good carpenter. He says if Jesus was a carpenter, its good enough for a clergyman. But I don't remember that Jesus let his house fall down.
That’s where proper stories begin, don’t they, when the handsome stranger arrives and everything goes wrong?
I lost to a better player who played some courageous tennis and deserved to win.
Alan Alda and his wife Arlene are two of the most life-affirming people I've ever met. He espoused equal rights for women while producing, writing, acting in and directing M*A*S*H; he used to commute between the set and home because he didn't want to disrupt his kids' schooling.
Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow: The year is going, let him go; Ring out the false, ring in the true.
I don't keep up on a lot of the business trends.