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Douglas William Jerrold

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Some people are so fond of ill-luck that they run half-way to meet it.
--
Meeting Troubles half-way, reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919).

 
Douglas William Jerrold

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"I think right about now I should answer some questions that are probably on your mind. You're probably thinking to yourself, 'Janeane, why are you not wearing the half-shirt that you're usually so fond of wearing? Because when we see you we like to see the half shirt.' You know I'm very fond of that and I'm fond of the low-slung jean and the thong, as you know. In fact when I go into a bar and I see ladies wearing the low-slung jeans and the half-shirts, I go up to them and say, 'On behalf of everyone here, thank you. Thank you!' 'Hey, pretty lady, are you wearing a thong? What a creative way to create favor with the opposite sex. That is so exciting. Let me understand the dynamic of the thong: so there's just a slender thread that just resides in your nether region for the better part of the day - just a string that rides in your anatomical hinterlands...it just hangs in there all day at work and then all day at the bar, so I can see how the gentlemen find that so exciting.'...Don't 'ooh' me, I'm not the one with the thong!"

 
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People who have what they want are very fond of telling people who haven't what they want that they really don't want it,
And I wish I could afford to gather all such people into a gloomy castle on the Danube and hire half a dozen capable Draculas to haunt it.
I dont' mind their having a lot of money, and I don't care how they employ it,
But I do think that they damn well ought to admit they enjoy it.

 
Ogden Nash
 

What luck I had to meet Morell. He has saved my life.

 
Theodor Morell
 

In war, luck is half in everything.

 
Napoleon Bonaparte
 

Aye, ye were blest with folly. Who may tell
What strange conceits upon the earth were sown
And gender'd by the fond garrulity
Of your aereal music? Scatter'd notes,
Half heard, half fancied by the erring sense
Of man, on which they fell like downy seeds
Sown by autumnal winds, grew up, and teem'd
With plenteous madness.

 
Hartley Coleridge
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