I am a kind of paranoiac in reverse. I suspect people of plotting to make me happy.
Nothing recedes like progress.
Get your facts first, then you can distort them as you please.
If I were reincarnated, I'd want to come back a buzzard. Nothing hates him or envies him or wants him or needs him. He is never bothered or in danger, and he can eat anything.
My witness is the empty sky.
Beauty may be skin deep, but ugly goes clear to the bone.
I have always wanted to write a book that ended with the word mayonnaise
It must be Happy Hour somewhere