Intelligence is predatory, but full of fastidiousness and frights.
In New York, pretending to be above the struggle means no seat on the bus and a table next to the kitchen.
I am kept in bondage by the moles of my beloved.
Glamour looks eloquent but seldom talks.
Like a frog, the aphorist waits for something to fly by that he can catch with his tongue.
The sewing machine joins what the scissors have cut asunder, plus whatever else comes in its path.