But my Leech—a leech Fit to suck blood, with lubricous round rings, Capaciously expatiative, which make His little body like a red balloon, As full of blood as that of hydrogene, Sucked from men’s hearts

For the fitter of film music in the silent era visual reference was the surest indicator of content.

Supposedly, utilitarians are able to add and subtract hedons (units of pleasure) and dolors (units of pain) without any signs of cognitive or affective distress […]

“Mornin’, ladies!” The door chimes were busy for a Tuesday. ¶ “Mornin’ back at ya’ – bein’ a bit presumptuous, aren’t you? I don't see any ladies!”