He sat there, sighing and moaning and ruminating thusly: “Oh, if only the Holy One, blessed be His name, would give me ten thousand dollars, I promis… - Leo Rosten

For twenty years Mr. Sokoloff had been eating at the same restaurant on Second Avenue. On this night, as on every other, Mr. Sokoloff ordered chicken soup. The waiter set it down and started off. Mr. Sokoloff called, “Waiter!” “Yeah?” “Please taste this soup.” The waiter said, “Hanh? Twenty years you’ve been eating the chicken soup here, no? Have you ever had a bad plate — ” “Waiter,” Sokoloff said firmly, “taste the soup.” “Sokoloff, what’s the matter with you?” “Taste the soup!” “All right, all right,” the waiter said, grimacing. “I’ll taste — where’s the spoon?” “Aha!” cried Sokoloff.

If you're going to do something wrong, at least enjoy it.

George S. Kaufman, a prince of wit, once remarked that he liked to write with his collaborator, Moss Hart, because Hart was so lucky. “In my case,” said Kaufman, “it’s gelt by association.