Life is like a butterfly.... Full of margarine and moths.

What gained we, little moth? Thy ashes, Thy one brief parting pang may show: And withering thoughts for soul that dashes, From deep to deep, are but a death more slow.

[He's] a margarine Communist.

Gypsy moths.

Because of Acid, I now know that butter is way better than margarine.

To endure is the first thing that a child ought to learn, and that which he will have the most need to know