On the way back to the mainland the boat passed over a fever of stingrays, and the sight of them through the glass was enough to colour everything else, and outstrip it.
Every writer has thons verbal likes and dislikes, yet, for the sake of convenience, I trust that even thon who dislikes verbal innovations will give my little word a little trial and note for me the result.
thons
thon
And his faire lockes […] He let to grow and griesly to concrew.
Some things never happen, he reminds himself. But this one always does, says the still small voice of mortality. Blow me, Laney tells it.
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