No Woman Is Worth The

The British Like Any Kind Of Music So Long As It Is Loud.

As You'll Never Hear The Thing Again, My Boy, Why Not Throw In A Couple Of Brass Bands?

I Find Brass Bands Have A Melancholy Sound. All Right Out Of Doors, Of Course - Fifty Miles Away. Like Bagpipes, They Turn What Had Been A Dream Into A Public Nuisance.

A Soprano In Massenet's Don Quixote Complained That She Had Missed Her Entry In The Aria, "because Mr. Challiapin Always Dies Too Soon." "madam, You Must Be Profoundly In Error," Said Sir Thomas, "no Operatic Star Has Yet Died Half Soon Enough For Me."

No Woman Is Worth The Loss Of A Night's Sleep.