Erratum. In my article on the Price of Milk, ‘Horses’ should have read ‘Cows’ throughout.

We’re a team like tea and milk, or cake and custard, or pork and apple.

I find friendship to be like wine, raw when new, ripened with age, the true old man’s milk and restorative cordial.

For sheep don’t throw up the grass to show the shepherds how much they have eaten; but, inwardly digesting their food, they outwardly produce wool and milk.

God said, it had to be somebody to seed, weed, feed, breed and rake, and disc and plow and plant and tie the fleece and strain the milk and replenish the self-feeder.

Milk is for babies. When you grow up you have to drink beer.

Don’t cry over spilled milk.

If you do not milk the cow fully, it falls sick.