Little disappointed, then, she turned attention to Chat of the Social World, gossip which exercised potent fascination upon the girl's intelligence. She devoured with more avidity than she had her food those pretentiously phrased chronicles of the snobocracy […] distilling therefrom an acid envy that robbed her napoleon of all its savour.

Though no minister would visit the Skerburnfoot, or, if he went, departed quicker than he came, the girl Ailie attended regular at the catechising at the mains of Sker.

Nah, come on, man! Some straight like you, giant stick up his ass, all a sudden at age, what, sixty, he's just gonna break bad?

“Mommy, I know that you don't suffer from ithyphallophobia, so you can stop pretending that you do.”