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Happiness is having a scratch for every itch.

Ogden Nash

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Ogden Nash
Age: 68 †
Born: 1902
Born: August 19
Died: 1971
Died: May 19
Poet
Screenwriter
Writer
New York
United States
Frederic Ogden Nash
Every
Itching
Itch
Scratch
Scratches
Humor
Happiness
Happy
Funny
Itchy

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A door is what a dog is perpetually on the wrong side of.
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One would be in less danger From the wiles of the stranger If one's own kin and kith Were more fun to be with.
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The truth I do not stretch or shove When I state the dog is full of love. I've also proved, by actual test, A wet dog is the lovingest.
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Some people's money is merited and other people's is inherited.
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Beneath this slab John Brown is stowed. He watched the ads, And not the road.
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The turtle lives 'twixt plated decks Which practically conceal its sex I think it clever of the turtle In such a fix to be so fertile.
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Remorse is violent dyspepsia of the mind.
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Authors of all races, be they Greeks, Romans, Teutons, or Celts, Can't seem just to say anything is the thing it is but have to go out of their way to say that it is like something else.
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Some primal termite knocked on wood. And tasted it, and found it good. And that is why your Cousin May Fell through the parlor floor today.
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Any kiddie in school can love like a fool, But Hating, my boy, is an Art.
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I'd rather be a great bad poet than a good bad poet.
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Linguistics becomes an ever eerier area, like I feel like I'm in Oz, Just trying to tell it like it was.
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Another good thing about gossip is that it is within everybody's reach, And it is much more interesting than any other form of speech.
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Senescence begins And middle-age ends The day your descendants Outnumber your friends
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Bankers are just like everybody else, except richer.
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There was a young man of Herne Bay who was making some fireworks one day: but he dropped his cigar in the gunpowder jar. There was a young man of Herne Bay.
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The Preacher, the Politicain, the Teacher, Were each of them once a kiddie. A child, indeed, is a wonderful creature. Do I want one? God Forbiddie!
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In real life, it takes only one to make a quarrel.
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When I remember bygone days I think how evening follows morn So many I loved were not yet dead, So many I love were not yet born.
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Here lies my past, Goodbye I have kissed it Thank you kids, I wouldn't have missed it.
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