Maxioms by Dorothy Parker
It's not the tragedies that kill us, it's the messes.
It's not the tragedies that kill us, it's the messes.
Every year, back comes Spring, with nasty little birds yapping their fool heads off and the ground all mucked up read more
Every year, back comes Spring, with nasty little birds yapping their fool heads off and the ground all mucked up with plants.
Men seldom make passes At girls who wear glasses.
Men seldom make passes At girls who wear glasses.
