This dissent isn’t going to suppress itself.

She had shins like fireplugs and hips as wide as an oven door. Her head was stuck directly onto her shoulders with the usual Prussian predilection for omitting the neck, and to watch her turn her head in the direction of Aunt Marvel’s yodeling demands for attention was to watch a large and noble owl.

She was from the wrong side of the tracks no matter how you gerrymandered the town.

If you think the ’80s were dumber than the ’70s, either you weren’t there or you weren’t paying attention.

So Jane was getting married. Well, more power to her. In fact, let me tighten those straps. Any word from the governor on the pardon? No? All right, then, more power to her.

I love the early hours of the day. It’s a nice place to visit but I wouldn’t want to live there.

What's the deal with putting animal feet on tubs? It's like insisting that all pianos should have tails, or dinner tables should have scrotal sacs. One of the things we like about tubs is their immobility, their general disinclination to bolt out of the room, scramble down the stairs, and make for the woods in a blind feral panic.

Look. Folks. It's simple. If you have poor taste in decorating, don't go nuts in the entryway. Wait until your guests are inside before you spring something unusual on them.

In the early '70s, the nation was afflicted with incurable pattern viruses - small microbes that reproduced and multiplied from a single swatch left on a sofa, and soon covered an entire room.

She was moving slowly, appearing to come no closer. Perhaps she was losing ground against the earth's rotation.