I often find him barren, sleightlie running-over those glorious deaths, as if he feared to attediate and molest us with their multitude and continuance.

Just what I wanted, seeing my mom in a daring bikini—or worse yet, my being in one. I had the perfect drawer I could bury it in.

Three languages rapped, fumbled or rumblingly oozed all the while.

Long through the night the sounds of music and the shouts of laughter were heard on the banks of that starry river; long through the night you might have listened with enchantment to the wild tales of the storier […]