“Wish I was a millionaire
I'd play rock music and grow long hair
Tell you boys
about a new Rolls-Royce Pretty women would call on me
I'd give ‘em all the third degree
Give ‘em satin sheets
To keep ‘em off the streetsHallelujah, let me sock it to ya
Praise the Lord...”

“Lord Peter Wimsey: Books…are like lobster shells, we surround ourselves with 'em, then we grow out of 'em and leave 'em behind, as evidence of our earlier stages of development.”

“A cat's meow and a cow's moo,
I can recite 'em all,
just tell me where it hurts you, honey,
and I'll tell you who to call.”

“I can't help feeling wary when I hear anything said about the masses. First you take their faces from 'em by calling 'em the masses and then you accuse 'em of not having any faces.”

“Women. Can't live with 'em, can't shoot 'em.”

“As Flitch dryly remarked when Greybeard commented on the graveyard, “Ah, they keep a-planting of ’em, but there ain’t any more of ’em growing up.””

“That’s one thing about these religious boys—they reckon that if they are on God’s side, then the enemy must be on the devil’s, and so they have no qualms about giving it to ’em hot and strong.”

“People complain about the bad things that happen to em that they don't deserve but they seldom mention the good. About what they done to deserve them things. I don't recall that I ever give the good Lord all that much cause to smile on me. But he did.”

“I keep the wolf from the door
But he calls me up
Calls me on the phone
Tells me all the ways that he's gonna mess me up
Steal all my children
If I don't pay the ransom
And I'll never see 'em again
If I squeal to the cops”

“There's a lot of ugly things in this world, son. I wish I could keep 'em all away from you. That's never possible.”