Humor e Ironia

What female heart can gold despise?

Any man who goes to a psychiatrist should have his head examined.

The man recovered of the bite,

And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind.

For he himself has said it,

An attachment à la Plato for a bashful young potato, or a not too French French bean!

The meaning doesn’t matter if it’s only idle chatter of a transcendental kind.

Something lingering, with boiling oil in it, I fancy.

Here’s a how-de-doo!

Modified rapture!

Awaiting the sensation of a short, sharp shock,

Three little maids from school are we.

The idiot who praises, with enthusiastic tone,

A wandering minstrel I—

I can trace my ancestry back to a protoplasmal primordial atomic globule. Consequently, my family pride is something in-conceivable. I can’t help it. I was born sneering.

The House of Peers, throughout the war,

I often think it’s comical

The Law is the true embodiment

Forgive, O Lord, my little jokes on Thee

The louder he talked of his honour, the faster we counted our spoons.

O O O O that Shakespeherian Rag—

A difference of taste in jokes is a great strain on the affections.

He was like a cock who thought the sun had risen to hear him crow.

Wit will shine