“I occasionally get birthday cards from fans. But it’s often the same message: They hope it’s my last.”

Upscale young men seem to go for the kind of woman who plays with a full deck of credit cards, who won’t cry when she’s knocked to the ground while trying to board the six o clock Eastern shuttle, and whose schedule doesn’t allow for a sexual encounter lasting more than twelve minutes.

We will stand by our friends and administer a stinging rebuke to men or parties who are either indifferent, negligent, or hostile, and, wherever opportunity affords, to secure the election of intelligent, honest, earnest trade unionists, with clear, unblemished, paid-up union cards in their possession.

Send thank-you cards and give standing ovations. Be pro-stuff, not just anti-stuff.

We wouldn’t be able to buy things online, because your credit cards – they’ve probably been ripped off anyway, but they would be ripped off left and right every day if there wasn’t encryption.

Gambling is the great leveller. All men are equal- at cards.

I was a big baseball player, and my passion in life, in third grade, was collecting baseball cards. That was my childhood thing.

Being human, she suffered from this lack and did what she could to make up for it. If she passed the evening bent over a table in the library and later declared that she had spent that time playing cards, it was as though she had managed to do both those things.

The teachers at my school were quite often card-carrying members of the Labour Party and it just was not part of the culture to approve of what the government was doing.