“Just as you see,” rejoined the old man; “for you will observe that in the plinths and friezes are represented not so much synchronistic as symphronistic* actions and events, whilst among all nations there occur traditions of similar and equal import.

She knew, because she had held him, that he suffered DT's. Behind the initials was a metaphor, a delirium tremens, a trembling unfurrowing of the mind's ploughshare.

Such wine as Ganymede doth skink to Jove, / When he invites the gods to feast with him / On Juno's wedding-day.

As some of you may know, I have a serious lady-boner for certain man – a man that I’ve been not-dating for the past two and a half months, but whom I think about often – usually horizontally.