The phrase "an A for effort" was coined by Æsop.

The Dalai Lama says it's possible for a female to succeed him, but he failed to mention that the Buddhist cosmos has countless heavens and therefore countless glass ceilings.

"I could have sworn I heard a violin playing 'The Last Rose of Summer.' In waltz time, no less."
—Eugenia Riley, Waltz in Time (1997)

This maritime serenade appears in Arthur's Home Magazine, 1887.

Jonathan Caws-Elwitt gleefully adds to the misquotation epidemic:

Courtesy of literary scalawag Jonathan Caws-Elwitt:

"What the Dickens-comma-Charles do you think you're doing!"

Here's our rendition of a Dickens comma:

Jonathan Caws-Elwitt gleefully adds to the misquotation epidemic:

Jonathan Caws-Elwitt gleefully adds to the misquotation epidemic:

The text reads: "You know my method.  It is founded upon the observation of trifles. —Sir Arthur Conan Doily."

Q: Why does Indiana have the fewest panhandlers?
A: Beggars can't be Hoosiers.

Q: What area of the United States has the most panhandlers?
A: The Florida panhandle, followed by the Oklahoma panhandle.

Did you hear the one about the Buddhist Luddites?  They sit in the dark to save ohms.

This one from Prof. Oddfellow's sketchbook was inspired by Jeff Hawkins:

When I look into your eyes, I expect time to stand still.  But this is ridiculous!  [See the caption of the illustration from The Canadian Magazine, 1901.]

Who ever said a pianist can't support himself?

Clinging to a piano for support.  From Metropolitan Magazine, 1905.

Years ago we quipped that John Venn traveled in many circles.

But as it's been too long since our last Venn joke, here's a new one:

John Venn's favorite way to waste time was running in circles.

(One might think these jokes write themselves, but the process is protracted and requires protractors.)

Source and massive version here.

The opposite of hubris is hubrisn't.

(We're proud to claim "hubrisn't" as a Googlewhack.  Google's one other instance of the word is from a tweet.)

This 1904 edition of The Rubaiyat of Omar Cayenne is apparently really hot.

Here's how to test whether or not someone is a "which" or practices "which-craft" [sic]:

The caption reads: "Now then, Molly! did you drop THAT, or did you not?"  The illustration appears in The Argosy, April 1, 1870.

From the desk of literary scalawag Jonathan Caws-Elwitt:

"Increasingly I find that I'm writing, not for myself, but so that an audience of readers might appreciate me.  I have progressed from narcissism to egotism."

"Monsieur Oiselle."

(That's a Googlewhack, as of this posting.)

(Thanks, Mike!)

[With apologies to Zen koans everywhere.]

If William Makepeace Thackeray's "Mahogany Tree" falls in the four rests and there's no one to hear it, is it compositionally sound?

(Score from Putnam's, 1907.)