Ulysses He ... saw the dark tangled curls of his bush floating, floating hair of the stream around the limp father of thousands, a languid flatong flower.

A man of genius makes no mistakes; his errors are volitional and are the portals of discovery.

Time's ruins build eternity's mansions.

Beware the horns of a bull, the heels of the horse, and the smile of an Englishman.

(...) You cruel creature, little mite of a thing with a heart the size of a fullstop.

O cold ! O shivery ! It was your ambrosial beauty. Forget, forgive. Kismet. Let me off this once.

So you need hardly spell me how every word will be bound over to carry three score and ten toptypsical readings throughout the book of Doublends Jined.