Last Monday, over near that other place, I heard a fellow say that trying to be truly intelligent under ordinary conditions was like having a forty acre farm on thirty-five acres.
This week’s Come-On-And-Let’s-Stick-It-To-Words gambit, to wit:
Is anything truly “misplaced” until you realize it is?
Okay, Brandenburg Variation, Opus One:
Is anything actually “misspent” until such later time as you might come up a penny short?
Under local conditions of this planet, “true love” would seem to be a passion A has for B that drives B nuts. (Or did I miss something?)
Questions rococo, answers terse. (Oh, okay, we can execute a 3-D expansion of this and admit to the validity of its vicey versey?)
First Voice: “Remember, you get what you pay for.”
Second One: “Don’t threaten me!”