The armored cars of dreams, contrived to let us do so many a dangerous thing.
I was made at right angles to the world and I see it so. I can only see it so.
The pigs stuck out their little feet and snored.
The art of losing isn't hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Something needn't be large to be good.
Think of the long trip home. Should we have stayed home and thought of here? Where should we be today?