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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.

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
Else
Celts
Seems
Romans
Anything
Greeks
Writing
Races
Thing
Authors
Something
Greek
Way
Seem
Like
Race

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There once was an umpire whose vision Was cause for abuse and derision He remarked in surprise, 'Why pick on my eyes? It's my heart that dictates my decision.'
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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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In real life, it takes only one to make a quarrel.
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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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A husband is a man who two minutes after his head touches the pillow is snoring like an overloaded omnibus.
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The oboe's a horn made of wood. I'd play you a tune if I could, But the reeds are a pain, And the fingering's insane. It's the ill wind that no one blows good.
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The codfish is a staple food For which I'm seldom in the mood. This fish is such an utter loss That people eat it with egg sauce.
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Remorse is violent dyspepsia of the mind.
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The noblest lord is ushered in By the practicing physician, And the humblest lout is ushered out By a certified mortician. And in between, they find their foyers Alive with summonses from lawyers.
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O money, money, money. I'm not necessarily one of those who think thee holy, but I often stop to wonder how thou canst go out so fast when thou comest in so slowly.
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I would live all my life in nonchalance and insouciance, were it not for making living, which is rather a nouciance.
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Love is a word that is constantly heard, Hate is a word that is not. Love, I am told, is more precious than gold. Love, I have read, is hot. But hate is the verb that to me is superb, And Love but a drug on the mart. Any kiddie in school can love like a fool, But Hating, my boy, is an Art.
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In the world of mules there are no rules.
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Indeed, everybody wants to be a wow, But not everybody knows exactly how.
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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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Good wine needs no bush, And perhaps products that people really want Need no hard-sell or soft-sell TV push. Why not? Look at pot.
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One man's remorse is another man's reminiscence.
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Then blessings on thee, my afternoon torpor Thou makest a prince of a mental porpor.
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Husbands are things that wives have to get used to putting up with. And with whom they breakfast with and sup with. They interfere with the discipline of nurseries, And forget anniversaries, And when they have been particularly remiss, They think they can cure everything with a great big kiss.
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Passivity can be a provoking modus operandi Consider the Empire and Gandhi.
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