And Balaam said unto God, Balak the son of Zippor, king of Moab, hath sent unto me, saying, Behold, there is a people come out of Egypt, which covereth the face of the earth: come now, curse me them; peradventure I shall be able to overcome them, and drive them out. And God said unto Balaam, Thou shalt not go with them; thou shalt not curse the people: for they are blessed.

Beshrew me, but 'twere pity of his heart, That could refuse a boon to such a suitress.

For me Saturday was a bright red color, just as the other days of the week were chromatically coded. […] This wasn't the true synæsthesia which is such a fascinating mystical hint, a loose thread in the fabric of perception left a-dangle, an unravelling which suggests that we could dissolve all our unreal categories.

And you might not know this, but potatoes are in fact a symbol of communism. Well what′s vodka made from? It isn′t fairy floss! It's potatoes, ning-nong!