Q: What do you call the scratches that you get when a female sheep bites you? A: Ewe nicks.

Do not sleep in a eucalyptus tree tonight.

Q: How many Marxists does it take to screw in a light bulb? A: None: The light bulb contains the seeds of its own revolution.

My only love sprung from my only hate! Too early seen unknown, and known too late! -- William Shakespeare, "Romeo and Juliet"

You enjoy the company of other people.

You have a strong appeal for members of your own sex.

Things past redress and now with me past care. -- William Shakespeare, "Richard II"

Q: What's tan and black and looks great on a lawyer? A: A doberman.

You may be infinitely smaller than some things, but you're infinitely larger than others.

As to the Adjective: when in doubt, strike it out. -- Mark Twain, "Pudd'nhead Wilson's Calendar"

Hell is empty and all the devils are here. -- Wm. Shakespeare, "The Tempest"

Q: What do you get when you cross the Godfather with an attorney? A: An offer you can't understand.

It's all in the mind, ya know.

Let me take you a button-hole lower. -- William Shakespeare, "Love's Labour's Lost"

Q: How many Californians does it take to screw in a light bulb? A: Five. One to screw in the light bulb and four to share the experience. (Actually, Californians don't screw in light bulbs, they screw in hot tubs.) Q: How many Oregonians does it take to screw in a light bulb? A: Three. One to screw in the light bulb and two to fend off all those Californians trying to share the experience.

Q: What is purple and commutes? A: An Abelian grape.

You need more time; and you probably always will.

Today's weirdness is tomorrow's reason why. -- Hunter S. Thompson

You will be Told about it Tomorrow. Go Home and Prepare Thyself.

We were young and our happiness dazzled us with its strength. But there was also a terrible betrayal that lay within me like a Merle Haggard song at a French restaurant. [...] I could not tell the girl about the woman of the tollway, of her milk white BMW and her Jordache smile. There had been a fight. I had punched her boyfriend, who fought the mechanical bulls. Everyone told him, "You ride the bull, senor. You do not fight it." But he was lean and tough like a bad rib-eye and he fought the bull. And then he fought me. And when we finished there were no winners, just men doing what men must do. [...] "Stop the car," the girl said. There was a look of terrible sadness in her eyes. She knew about the woman of the tollway. I knew not how. I started to speak, but she raised an arm and spoke with a quiet and peace I will never forget. "I do not ask for whom's the tollway belle," she said, "the tollway belle's for thee." The next morning our youth was a memory, and our happiness was a lie. Life is like a bad margarita with good tequila, I thought as I poured whiskey onto my granola and faced a new day. -- Peter Applebome, International Imitation Hemingway Competition