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Tonight’s December thirty-first, Something is about to burst. The clock is crouching, dark and small, Like a time bomb in the hall. Hark, it's midnight, children dear. Duck! Here comes another year!
The bed is a bundle of paradoxes: we go to it with reluctance, yet we quit it with regret; we make up our minds every night to leave it early, but we make up our bodies every morning to keep it late.
Which the Chicken and Which the Egg? He drinks because she scolds, he thinks; She thinks she scolds because he drinks; And nether will admit what's true, That he's a sot and she's a shrew.
At least when I get on the Boston train I have a good chance of landing in the South Station And not in that part of the daily press which is reserved for victims of aviation.
There are people who are very resourceful, at being remorseful, And who apparently feel that the best way to make friends is to do something terrible and then make amends.
To keep your marriage brimming, With love in the loving cup, Whenever you're wrong, admit it; Whenever you're right, shut up." ~Happy birthday Ogden Nash! (born 8.19.1902)
O, money, money, money, I'm not necessarily one of those who think thee holy, But I often stop to wonder how thou canst go out so fast when thou comest in so slowly.