wort, kennt sie ganz genau, in seinen schlimmsten Alpträumen
sieht er sie in großen bösen Buchstaben auf sich stürzen, sie
lautet: In Erwartung des Klingelzeichens.
(1) Avoid fried meats which angry up the blood.
(2) If your stomach antagonizes you, pacify it with cool thoughts.
(3) Keep the juices flowing by jangling around gently as you move.
(4) Go very lightly on the vices, such as carrying on in society, as
the social ramble ain't restful.
(5) Avoid running at all times.
(6) Don't look back, something might be gaining on you.
-- S. Paige, c. 1951
A clash of doctrine is not a disaster -- it is an opportunity.
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Love is a grave mental disease.
-- Plato
Love is a snowmobile racing across the tundra, which suddenly flips
over, pinning you underneath. At night the ice weasels come.
-- Matt Groening, "Love is Hell"
Love is always open arms. With arms open you allow love to come and
go as it wills, freely, for it will do so anyway. If you close your
arms about love you'll find you are left only holding yourself.
Love is being stupid together.
-- Paul Valery
Love is dope, not chicken soup. I mean, love is something to be passed
around freely, not spooned down someone's throat for their own good by a
Jewish mother who cooked it all by herself.
Love is in the offing.