Very few people possess true artistic ability. It is therefore both unseemly and unproductive to irritate the situation by making an effort. If you have a burning, restless urge to write or paint, simply eat something sweet and the feeling will pass. Your life story would not make a good book. Do not even try.

12:55 P.M.—I try to get back to sleep. Although sleeping is an area in which I have manifested an almost Algeresque grit and persistence, I fail to attain my goal.

There is no such thing as inner peace. There is only nervousness or death. Any attempt to prove otherwise constitutes unacceptable behavior.

I open the refrigerator. I decide against the half a lemon and jar of Gulden’s mustard and on the spur of the moment choose instead to have breakfast out. I guess that’s just the kind of girl I am—whimsical.

“Your right to wear a mint-green polyester leisure suit ends where it meets my eye.”

Rather than attempt to answer this question by utilizing the methods of the investigative reporter—legwork, research, and digging for facts—I decided instead to employ those of the irresponsible wag: lying on the sofa, talking on the phone, and making things up.

Children are rarely in the position to lend one a truly interesting sum of money. There are, however, exceptions, and such children are an excellent addition to any party.

Children make the most desirable opponents in Scrabble as they are both easy to beat and fun to cheat.

Ordering in Some Breakfast. Picking Up the Mail. Going Out for Cigarettes. Meeting for a Drink. As you can see, these are largely urban activities and, as such, not ordinarily regarded with much respect by sports enthusiasts. Nevertheless, they all require skill, stamina, and courage. And they all have their penalties and their rewards.