Critics Are Like Eunuchs; They

Ah, Bless You, Sister, May All Your Sons Be Bishops.

The Sun Was In Mind To Come Out But Having A Look At The Weather It Was In Lost Heart And Went Back Again.

God Forgive Us-but Most Of Us Grew Up To Be The Sort Of Men Our Mothers Warned Us Against.

Nothing Hurts More Than The Friendly Letter That One Never Got Around To Writing.

Failure At A Task May Be The Result Of Having Tackled It At The Wrong Time.