You're Heading For A Breakdown. Why Don't

My Favourite Poem Is The One That Starts 'thirty Days Hath September' Because It Actually Tells You Something.

Yes, Darling, Let Me Cover Your Face With Kisses-on Second Thought, Just Let Me Cover Your Face

[he] May Talk Like An Idiot, And Look Like An Idiot, But Don't Let That Fool You: He Really Is An Idiot.

I've Known And Respected Your Husband For Many Years, And What's Good Enough For Him Is Good Enough For Me

Gentlemen, Chicolini Here May Talk Like An Idiot, And Look Like An Idiot, But Don't Let That Fool You: He Really Is An Idiot. I Implore You, Send Him Back To His Father And Brothers, Who Are Waiting For Him With Open Arms In The Penitentiary. I Suggest That We Give Him Ten Years In Leavenworth, Or Eleven Years In Twelveworth.