To such men as Mr. Hellyer, who every night take much strong drink, and on no occasion whatever take any exercise, sixty is the grand climacteric. He was, a year ago, just fifty-nine. Alas! he has not even reached his grand climacteric. Already he is gone. He was cut off by pneumonia, or apoplexy, last Christmas.

After I got out of the mental institution I was looking at t.v. show I was looking it a teenage girl who was a cutter her arm look just like my arm.

Time being called, Johnson rose from his second’s knee with the heart of a lion—the immense size and weight of his opponent seemed lost sight of—not a particle of fear belonged to him; and screwing his courage up to the sticking-place, boldly faced his man, putting all the excellence of his science into action, put in such a tremendous blow on the sensitive plant of Perrins—otherwise his sneezer, or nose—whichever term you like best—that split it all the way down as if cut open with a carving-knife; the claret flowing in torrents; and the Giant floored!

Mongo never asked anybody their sexual identity unless he was hooking for a quick fuck. He'd say, Hey Baby, do you like men? Let's oil up and bump uglies.