 fortune index all fortunes
| | #7148 | | It was a fine, sweet night, the nicest since my divorce, maybe the nicest
since the middle of my marriage. There was energy, softness, grace and
laughter. I even took my socks off. In my circle, that means class.
-- Andrew Bergman "The Big Kiss-off of 1944"
| | | #7149 | | It was raining heavily, and the motorist had car trouble on a lonely country
road. Anxious to find shelter for the night, he walked over to a farmhouse
and knocked on the front door. No one responded. He could feel the water
from the roof running down the back of his neck as he stood on the stoop.
The next time he knocked louder, but still no answer. By now he was soaked
to the skin. Desperately he pounded on the door. At last the head of a
man appeared out of an upstairs window.
"What do you want?" he asked gruffly.
"My car broke down," said the traveler, "and I want to know if you
would let me stay here for the night."
"Sure," replied the man. "If you want to stay there all night, it's
okay with me."
| | | #7150 | | It wasn't exactly a divorce -- I was traded.
-- Tim Conway
| | | #7151 | | It's a funny thing that when a woman hasn't got anything
on earth to worry about, she goes off and gets married.
| | | #7152 | | "It's men like him that give the Y chromosome a bad name."
| | | #7153 | | It's not the inital skirt length, it's the upcreep.
| | | #7154 | | It's not the men in my life, but the life in my men that counts.
-- Mae West
| | | #7155 | | It's the good girls who keep the diaries, the bad girls never have the time.
-- Tallulah Bankhead
| | | #7156 | | It's the theory of Jess Birnbaum, of Time magazine, that women with
bad legs should stick to long skirts because they cover a multitude of shins.
| | | #7157 | | Joe sat as his dying wife's bedside.
Her voice was little more than a whisper.
"Joe, darling," she breathed, "I've got a confession to make
before I go. I ... I'm the one who took the $10,000 from your safe...
I spent it on a fling with your best friend, Charles. And it was I who
forced your mistress to leave the city. And I am the one who reported
your income-tax evasion to the I.R.S..."
"That's all right, dearest, don't give it a second thought,"
whispered Joe. "I'm the one who poisoned you."
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