With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come.

How they chirped over their cups.

Win or lose, the crows always laughed — the hard, old jaded laughter that came of looking at the world with a black and practiced eye. From the less skillful the laugh might have hinted of despair, or silliness, like the magpies', but the crows were masters of the wry outlook, and Viv never heard them but what she followed their expert lead and laughed along — they knew the secret of black, that it could not be made blacker, and if neither could it be made lighter, it could still be made funnier.

With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come

The gods too are fond of a joke.

Scraps thought it was odd that they could be so easily amused, but decided there could be little harm in people who laughed so merrily.

Their laughter rose to the ceiling and shook hands there.

Laughter's all the damned thing's fit for.

If conversation was the lyrics, laughter was the music, making time spent together a melody that could be replayed over and over without getting stale.

In comedy laughter settles all arguments.

Two clichés make us laugh. A hundred cliches move us. For we sense dimly that the clichés are talking <i>among themselves</i>, and celebrating a reunion.

(<i>Casablanca, or, The Clichés Are Having a Ball</i>)

in comedy laughter settles all argument
فى الكوميديا، الضحك ينهى أى جدل

A cheerful genius suits the times, / And all true poets laugh unquenchably / Like Shakespeare and the gods.

Smiling with pleasure, they went through their memories, not sad, old people's memories, but poetic, youthful ones, those impressions from the very distant past where dream merges with reality, and they laughed softly, rejoicing at something.