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Such dainties to them, their health it might hurt;
It's like sending them ruffles, when wanting a shirt.
--
The Haunch of Venison (1776).

 

Oliver Goldsmith

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To treat a poor wretch with a bottle of Burgundy, and fill his snuff-box, is like giving a pair of laced ruffles to a man that has never a shirt on his back. 2

 

Tom (satirist) Brown

 

There was pride in the shirt. There was sweat in the shirt. There was blood in the shirt.

 

Phil Brown

 

to a defendant's witness wearing a T-shirt reading "BEER EQUALS FUN": Mr. Gordon, that's a ridiculous shirt that you chose to wear to court today. ... I don't know what kind of statement you thought you were making, but if you wanted to leave the impression on this piece of tape that you're going to have on posterity for your children that you are an intelligent, thinking person, that shirt you're wearing belies that fact.

 

Judith Sheindlin

 

We have a big argument here about whether Nicaragua and Cuba are sending arms to El Salvador. Well, I don't know, so far there's no evidence that they are, but that's not really the interesting question. I mean, you gotta watch the way questions are framed by the propaganda system. The way it's framed is, the doves say they're not sending arms, and the hawks say they are sending arms. But the real question, which is being suppressed in all of this, is, "Should they be sending arms?" And the answer is of course, "Yes." [applause] Everybody should be sending arms. You see, that question is not raised, just as if somebody was talking in, say, the Soviet Union, and the question came up: "Should somebody send arms to Afghan rebels?" Well, of course not. You know, that's terrorism or something like that. The point is that it's perfectly legitimate to send arms to people who finally try to use violence in self-defense against a gang of mass murderers installed by a foreign power. Of course it's legitimate to send them arms.

 

Noam Chomsky

 

There was not much more for us to talk about,
Whatever we had once was gone.
So I turned my cab into the driveway,
Past the gate and the fine trimmed lawns.
And she said we must get together,
But I knew it'd never be arranged.
And she handed me twenty dollars,
For a two fifty fare, she said
"Harry, keep the change."
Well another man might have been angry,
And another man might have been hurt,
But another man never would have let her go...
I stashed the bill in my shirt.

 

Harry Chapin