U.S.A. WISE-CRACKS

Greymouth Evening Star, 11 May 1936, Page 4

U.S.A. WISE-CRACKS

DIPLOMA MAXIMS. It is stated in an American paper that the anxiety of the Borough President of Manhattan, caused by motor accidents, is so great that, in despair of ordinary warnings, he has called ill the aid of verse (writes E. V. Lucas, in the London “Sunday Times. 1 In the hope that rhyme may do what prose cannot, the poets and epigrammatists have been at work, and some of their efforts are quoted. Here is a choice: — Traffic lights are for your protection — Cross with them at every intersection. To avoid sorrow and remorse Watch traffic lights before you cross. ’Tis better to be regulated Than relegated. Faint heart ne’er won fair lady. But good brakes' may save your] baby. , If you don’t want to lie on a hospital) bed, E Don’t cross when the traffic light is] red. These may not strike any one as being remarkable works of art, but I think that they are direct enough to excite a spark of competitive interest in Mr. Hore Belisha. So many of our poets seem to find it difficult to be published in the ordinary way, that they might like to try their hands at a couplet or two, never, of course, rhyming “lady” to “baby” or “remorse” to “cross,” but none the less making it very difficult for any reader to disregard those signs for pedestrians the orange of which is getting very grimy. The Manhattan specimens illustrate the contention that, as I have more than once displayed in this column, the American minds tends to swift sententiousness. and I have just had renewed proof of this in the biography of that extraordinary soldier of fortune, Wilson Mizner, a. film impresario of Hollywood, a dramatist, the husband (for a short time) of Mrs. Yerkes, and an adventurer of the United States, who died a little time ago. A section of the book is given to the aphorisms of this wily Jew, some of which —as the biography is unikely to be issued over here —I reproduce: —

I’ve had several years in Hollywood, and I still think the movie heroes are in the audience.

Do you remember the old days before the movies, when there was no wickedness?

There’s nothing so comfortable as a small bankroll. A big one is always in danger.

A good listener is not only popular everywhere, but after a while he knows something.

I’d rather know a square guy than own a square mile.

Many a birdbrain goes along for years without being discovered, until he inherits a little money.

The most awesome and emotional faces I have ever beheld are thoes of a first-night audience in New York. Half of this is due, I suspect, to the prevalence of people in this world who dare not express an opinion until they have heard someone else’s viewpoint.

Those who welcome death have tried it only from the ears up.

If you have the right answers for two questions you are on your way places. ... Do you know anything, and will you work?

A sneak can occasionally do pretty well for himself, but he always has an awful lot of trouble with his facial expression.

Popularity is exhausting. The life-and-soul of a party almost always winds up in a corner with an overcoat over him.

The gent who wakes up and finds himself a success hasn’t been asleep.

I’ve known countless people who were reservoirs of learning yet never had a thought. t

In the battle of existence, Talent is the punch; Tact is the clever footwork.

I can usually judge a fellow by what he laughs at.

I hate careless flattery, the kind that exhausts you in your effort to believe it.

The tired business man of America will sit through a girl and music show, but it’s not the melody that lingers on. For him there is no music comparable with_his own speaking voice. tNrnBo p.i<. > y - - <a, I know of no sentence that can induce such immediate and brazen lying as the one which begins: “Have you read . . . .”

Big, sound, wholesome worries are sure to come along in anyone’s life, but one way to postpone the wrinkles is to omit preliminary fretting.

I’ve had a lot of money in my time, but the world is jammed with things that J want more than dollars.

A fellow who is always declaring ie’s no fool, usually lias bis suspicions.

I am a stylist—and the most beau tiful sentence I have ever heard is ‘Have one on the house.”

A dramatic critic is a guy who surprises tho playwright by informing him what he meant.