Time is so old and love so brief, love is pure gold and time a thief. We're late, darling, we're late, The curtain descends, everything ends, too soon, too soon.

I'm like a backward berry, Unripened on the vine, For all my friends are fifty, And I'm only forty-nine.

I do not like to get the news, because there has never been an era when so many things were going so right for so many of the wrong persons.

Middle-age is when you're sitting at home on a Saturday night and the telephone rings and you hope it isn't for you.

Here's a toast to the roast that good fellowship lends, with the sparkle of beer and wine; May its sentiment always be deeper, my friends, than the foam at the top of the stein. Then here's to the heartening wassail, wherever good fellows are found; Be its master instead of its vassal, and order the glasses around.

Your hair may be brushed, but your mind's untidy. _x000D_ You've had about seven hours of sleep since Friday. _x000D_ No wonder you feel that lost sensation. _x000D_ You're sunk from a riot of relaxation.