His heart danced upon her movement like a cork upon a tide.

He drew forth a phrase from his treasure and spoke it softly to himself: A day of dappled seaborne clouds.

My words in her mind: cold polished stones sinking through a quagmire.

They lived and laughed and loved and left.

What? Corpus. Body. Corpse. Good idea the Latin. Stupifies them first. Hospice for the dying. They don't seem to chew it; only swallow it down.

Once upon a time and a very good time it was there was a moocow coming down along the road and this moocow that was coming down along the road met a nicens little boy named baby tuckoo

Wipe your glasses with what you know.