Phall if you but will, rise you must: and none so soon either shall the pharce for the nunce come to a setdown secular phoenish.

Ineluctable modality of the visible; at least that if no more, thought through my eyes. Signatures of all things I am here to read.

Sometimes he caught himself listening to the sound of his own voice. He thought that in her eyes he would ascent to an angelical stature; and, as he attached the fervent nature of his companion more and more closely to him, he heard the strange impersonal voice which he recognised as his own, insisting on the soul's incurable lonliness. We cannot give ourselves, it said: we are our own.

All Moanday, Tearday, Wailsday, Thumpsday, Frightday, Shatterday.

Redheaded women buck like goats.

Why is it that words like these seem dull and cold? Is it because there is no word tender enough to be your name?

The mouth can be better engaged than with a cylinder of rank weed.