Some affixes are wildly promiscuous.

I feel the stars. Each sparkle sets aflame the pain in my heart.

Some affixes are wildly promiscuous.

You have to live life if you're going to create believable lives on paper.

If you fall into water, you may still be saved. But if you fall down in literary matters, there is no life left for you.

And oh I want so much to sing, I tell myself no. But it is so hard to keep from singing.

Or, in truth, eventually, though I still noticed, the callouses on my spirit prevented wounds (p.75).