If I Were A Piano Player, I'd

In Every School I've Gone To, All The Athletic Bastards Stick Together.

Real Ugly Girls Have It Tough. I Feel So Sorry For Them Sometimes.

For Joy, Apparently, It Was All Franny Could Do To Hold The Phone, Even With Both Hands.

If I'd Wanted This Place To Fill Up With Every Fat Irish Rose That Passes By, I'd've Said So.

I Don't Know About Bores. Maybe You Shouldn't Feel Too Sorry If You See Some Swell Girl Getting Married To Them. They Don't Hurt Anybody Most Of Them, And Maybe They're All Terrific Whistlers Or Something. Who The Hell Knows? Not Me.