The lords of the manor, armed with torches and pitchforks.
Love is dumb.
As the new Congress begins its “work.”
I cannot tell a lie. It was the state.
The problem is a dearth of adult mental content.
Concept formation among the Klingons.
And the winner is — no one in particular.
I didn’t hear you — could you yell a little louder, please?
Suppose you’re a vacuum cleaner . . .
Wordmen, spare that rabbit.