Poison for Breakfast

by Lemony Snicket

“That was not my finest hour,” and although “finest hour” is a phrase which means “a time when I was at my best,” I like to think of my finest hour as an actual hour in which I am at my most true and good. I don’t know when this hour is, whether it is in my future or if it went by unnoticed in my past, but I keep watch for those sixty shiny minutes. I know they are somewhere.

Involuntary noises are my least favorite kind of noise I can make. If I’m going to sound foolish I would at least like to have done it on purpose.

“Red-breasted robin?" a red-breasted robin might repeat in astonishment. “That’s not my name. And why are you focusing on my breast? That’s inappropriate.”

and the trick with scrambled eggs is never to eat them.