The babies, giggled, smiled, and squidged dirt and dandelions between their fingers.

The winds howled from the other side of the Morava River, which was stilled by ice, while along the banks the ice lay unmowed, full of icicled reeds, traveler's joy, and sedge, as though the ice were growing a silver beard.

Heroin, be the death of me / Heroin, it's my wife and it's my life / Because a mainer to my vein / Leads to a center in my head / And then I'm better off than dead

The two of them began to laugh; they did this uproariously, unladylikely;