It's exactly a month until the Ides of March, when we have to get serious about the state of Rome.
In the meantime, let's have some fun.
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A wolf in sheep’s clothing is very warm.
When in Rome, you’re not in Albany.
To be or not to be—that is metaphysical.
East Side, West Side, all around the town—gridlock.
Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water. Jack said, “What are we nuts? We have indoor plumbing.”
The boy who cried Wolf—and Schubert and Beethoven.
It’s a long, long way to Tipperary—unless you’re in Limerick.
Jack Sprat could eat no fat; his wife could eat no lean. So they were never able to agree on a restaurant.
Keep the home fires burning—if you’re an arsonist.
Had we but world enough and time—we’d still need a load of cash.
Oh, that this too, too solid flesh would melt! (Why’d I put it in the freezer in the first place?)
I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. (Unless I need to lie.)
Physician, heel thyself. Then roll over and play dead.
A fool and his money are soon partied.
The Emperor has no clothes. They’re all in the wash.
Friends, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your ears! I’m an audiologist new in town.
“But did thee feel the earth move?” “No.”
Polly want a cracker—with peanut butter.
Henny Penny, the sky is falling as sleet!
God is in the details, and he can’t get out.
He who hesitates—has to wait for the light to change.
London Bridge is falling down. On the other hand, London Canasta is still standing.
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