Can’t repeat the past?…Why of course you can!

A sense of the fundamental decencies is parceled out unequally at birth.

We all must try to be good.

The unwelcome November rain had perversely stolen the day's last hour and pawned it with that ancient fence, the night.

The sun had gone down behind the tall apartments of the movie stars in the West Fifties, and the unclear voices of children, already gathered like crikets on the grass, rose through the hot twilight.

She was beautiful, but not like those girls in the magazines. She was beautiful, for the way she thought. She was beautiful, for the sparkle in her eyes when she talked about something she loved. She was beautiful, for her ability to make other people smile, even if she was sad. No, she wasn't beautiful for something as temporary as her looks. She was beautiful, deep down to her soul. She is beautiful.

To the wingless a more interesting phenomenon is their (W/E Egg) dissimilarity in every particular except shape and size.