Somebody posted this the other day in a quarrel:
And I wanted to say "Hey, no fair-- we've all done THAT..." but then
I remembered that Ogden Nash says it better. So:
What is life? Life is stepping down a step or sitting in a chair,
And it isn't there.
Life is not having been told that the man has just waxed the floor,
It is pulling doors marked Push and pushing doors marked
Pull and not noticing notices which say Please Use Other Door.
Life is an Easter Parade
In which you whisper, "No darling if it's a boy we'll name
him after your father!" into the ear of an astonished
stranger because the lady you thought was walking
beside you has stopped to gaze into a window full of
radishes and hot malted lemonade.
It is when you diagnose a sore throat as an unprepared
geography lesson and send your child weeping to
school only to be returned an hour later covered with
spots that are indubitably genuine,
It is a concert with a trombone soloist filling in for
Were it not for frustration and humiliation
I suppose the human race would get ideas above its station.
Somebody once described Shelley as a beautiful and
ineffective angel beating his luminous wings against the void in vain,
Which is certainly describing with might and main,
But probably means that we are all brothers under our pelts,
And Shelley went around pulling doors marked Push and
Pushing doors marked Pull just like everybody else.