In 1919, C.P. built a true work of art, a 26-foot mahogany river runner, with a stepped hull and an aft cockpit

[…] and therefore the confusion, or prescindent nature, of such concept is not the result of a separation by which one grade is cut off from another, but simply of a cognition which cuts off a confused from a distinct and determinate concept.

He died a little inside each time she refused to speak to him.

She was bunked from the convent last term. I don't quite know what for.