A pale sun poked impudent marmalade fingers through the grizzled lattice glass, and sent the shadows scurrying, like convent girls menaced by a tramp.
Frankly, once I've eaten a thing, I don't expect to see it again.
Do you know what a Palmist once said to me? She said: will you let go!
If you are normal, I intend to be a freak for the rest of my life.
I've never met a man I didn't mutilate.
Like the shock of fondling a raw sausage, blindfold, at a gay party.