Freebsd Fortunes 4: 1307 of 2327 |
I'm a Hollywood writer; so I put on
a sports jacket and take off my brain.
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Freebsd Fortunes 4: 1308 of 2327 |
I'm a lucky guy, and I'm happy to be with the Yankees. And I want to
thank everyone for making this night necessary.
-- Yogi Berra at a dinner in his honor
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Freebsd Fortunes 4: 1309 of 2327 |
I'm all for computer dating, but I
wouldn't want one to marry my sister.
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Freebsd Fortunes 4: 1310 of 2327 |
I'm also inclined to believe that if you wait long enough, you will
eventually have more than 255 of almost *anything*....
-- A. Lyman Chapin
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Freebsd Fortunes 4: 1311 of 2327 |
I'm always looking for a new idea that
will be more productive than its cost.
-- David Rockefeller
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Freebsd Fortunes 4: 1312 of 2327 |
I'm an artist.
But it's not what I really want to do.
What I really want to do is be a shoe salesman.
I know what you're going to say --
"Dreamer! Get your head out of the clouds."
All right! But it's what I want to do.
Instead I have to go on painting all day long.
The world should make a place for shoe salesmen.
-- J. Feiffer
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Freebsd Fortunes 4: 1313 of 2327 |
I'm an evolutionist; I refuse to believe
that I could have been created by man.
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Freebsd Fortunes 4: 1314 of 2327 |
"I'm ANN LANDERS!! I can SHOPLIFT!!"
-- Zippy the Pinhead
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Freebsd Fortunes 4: 1315 of 2327 |
I'm dying beyond my means.
-- Oscar Wilde, his last words, while sipping champagne
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Freebsd Fortunes 4: 1316 of 2327 |
"I'm dying," he croaked.
"My experiment was a success," the chemist retorted .
"You can't really train a beagle," he dogmatized.
"That's no beagle, it's a mongrel," she muttered.
"The fire is going out," he bellowed.
"Bad marksmanship," the hunter groused.
"You ought to see a psychiatrist," he reminded me.
"You snake," she rattled.
"Someone's at the door," she chimed.
"Company's coming," she guessed.
"Dawn came too soon," she mourned.
"I think I'll end it all," Sue sighed.
"I ordered chocolate, not vanilla," I screamed.
"Your embroidery is sloppy," she needled cruelly.
"Where did you get this meat?" he bridled hoarsely.
-- Gyles Brandreth, "The Joy of Lex"
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