'Look at the children, you nasty little bitch!' he sneered.

Even when you want to do it for yourself, outside of the marriage industrial complex, it's practically impossible.

The lips were of the usual marble pallor. The eyes were lustreless.

Philander went into the next room[…]and came back with a salt mackerel[…]. Next he put the mackerel in a fry-pan, and the shanty began to smell like a Banks boat just in from a v'yage.