Just before a daybreak assault, one general declared, “A few good men are better than an omelet.”
Who but City folks would aim their big guns at their little foes?
(Who else would even HAVE little foes?)
There is this hearty chap in the delta region of Bulgaria who claims he single-handedly invented ethics, but has yet to receive a cent in royalties.
During a lipid lull in his birthday party, a young lad asked his grandfather, “Now that I am eight, may I safely expect the arrival of the future?”
You know you’re serenely back in the good ole city, when you discover that some of the professions seem to serve best, who do so by neglect; whose best treatments are no treatments at all.