A still letter caused no bodily harm for the most part, though they dragged their feet dressed to kill, to their way of thinking. What will they think of next? Let’s face it, it’s just one of those things. You can’t have it both ways, although you can have your cake and eat it too. You’ve got to have high hopes. Gee whiz! It’s a game that two can play. The general rule is that the exception proves the rule. Every schoolboy knows that every picture tells a story. But what about schoolgirls? The die is cast. You shouldn’t burn your bridges behind you until you come to them, unless the Redcoats are coming. Which is worse, burning the candle at both ends or the midnight oil? Fan the flames of the fire and brimstone. If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen. Forbidden fruit is a force to be reckoned with. Your friendly neighborhood necrophiliac likes the stiff, silent type. A near miss is a crash. Like father, like it or not. We are not to be outdone, not by a long shot, not for all the tea in china, not for any price, not for one minute, not on your life, not for the world. We’ll fight tooth and nail and like a tiger: we’ll fiddle while Rome burns. Everyman has his price. Is no man an island no matter what’s cooking? An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a feather in one’s cap. Money well spent talks, for thirty pieces you can have a silver lining. A brain drain can become someones bread and butter. Fly in the face that launched a thousand ships. Give them enough rope and they’ll take the benefit of the doubt. He told me to have a heart, but I told him I hated his guts. I have dibs on a bone to pick with you. He has eyes only for a midday snack, and then only if they’re bigger than his stomach. Instead of food for thought, feed yourself on this. He doesn’t have all of his marbles, but he’s does have bats in the belfry. We’re not playing with a full deck, but it’s stacked. He’s on the ball that he has. I’ve got to keep the ball and chain rolling. He hit the books, the nail on the head, the jackpot, the bull’s eye, his stride, then below the belt, between the eyes, the ceiling, the sauce, and finally the hay. I’ll fix his little red wagon so he falls off it. Lean your head on my cold shoulder. If a cat has nine lives, why should he get my tongue? It was the cat’s pajamas, a real even keel over. I’ve got a price on my head, so I keep that and my shoulders above the rest. He called me out on the carpet that he had cut out from under me. I’ve got to hand it to him, taking the law in his own hands like that. I’m having an out of body English experience. He who laughs last, has no laughing matter. This is going at a snail’s pace in no time. Once upon a time out. Read between the in line with.