The rich man has his motor car, His country and his town estate He smokes a fifty-cent cigar And jeers at fate. Yet though my lamp burn low and dim, Though I must slave for livelihood, Think you that I would change with him? You bet I would! – Franklin Pierce Adams
I was seized by the stern hand of Compulsion, that dark, unseasonable Urge that impels women to clean house in the middle of the night. – James Thurber