Helen Keller, she just can’t see how much I love her. Also, she acts like she can’t hear my crying out for her. #WCW
Even though I created an “Eat Bubblegum” dance, I can’t actually perform it because my belly doesn’t bulge out far enough. When I make love it sounds like I’m chewing on a chalkboard.
Love is like a spring rain on a sunny September morning. And when I go out on dates, I bring my own jars of pickles. Women probably find it not only practical, but devastatingly sexy.
I wear a tinfoil suit, because you never know when you’ll be going to the moon. I’ll probably have more luck finding the love of my life on a lonely and dead space rock.
She has a sly smile, and eyes that seem to see my essence as they explore my soul and implore my spirit to enter her. I look at her and I see love.
Normally I charge 60 cents on the dollar for stolen merchandise. But since it was my mother-in-law, and I stole it from her, I only charged her 50 cents on the dollar. That’s love.
I make love like you might make an omelet. At least, I’m hoping you might make an omelet, because I skipped breakfast like a child skips home from the class he just skipped.
Grandpa used to like gravy on everything, including his pancakes. If love could be eaten, I’ll bet he’d prefer it with gravy on top. And I’d have to agree. Love would taste better with gravy.
Love is like holding a baloney sandwich for a friend. That was over two years ago, and I’m still holding it. I wonder if he’s coming back any time soon. He must be starving by now.
I want to write a song about the only girl I’ve ever loved. And the chorus will say something like, “I really want to see you tonight, so I hope you leave your blinds open.
I’ll tell you what love is. Love is walking up and down Archer Road in Gainesville, Florida and feeling like Cupid. Too bad the cops took issue with me hitch hiking with a bow and arrow.
Love is a gift you receive by giving. The more love you give, the more love you get. Try it out today, and try it out with me. Go ahead—give me all your love.
I’m such a terrible speller that sometimes I misspell words so bad that they become unreadably readable. For example, I might misspell a simple word like “Love” and have it come out as the properly spelled “Hate.
Love is a universal language, and I have just created its alphabet. In written form, the letters are invisible; when spoken the words are inaudible; but when touched, the sentences are smooth, like freshly shaven legs.
Two butterflies in two socks could walk faster than I can run. A love song will jog your memory like I jog like Roger Bannister in a wheelchair.
Exchanging currencies from one country to another needs conversion, but not translation. Money, like love, is a universal language. However, you can’t debase love, no matter how much of it you pump into the world.
Just because I’m in love, doesn’t mean I think about her 24/7. No, I only think about her 23/7, because I need an hour a day to contemplate my mortality.
In the park I saw an empty bench, and I thought, “That’s like my love for her.” At first I was sad, but then I smiled when I realized I’m more of a sofa kind of guy.
Being negative, that’s no good. Also, being no good is no good. By your silence I can tell that you love me. Either that or you’re a disciple of Helen Keller.
Rejoiced in youth, repented in age.
Every artistic form has its golden age, and unfortunately I think the golden age for whatever I do probably ended about 1990.
