Podson grabbed at his tobacco with a fervent, God! just about saved my life. With a cigarette going he grabbed at the papers, requiring spiritual sustenance as well as a divine narcotic.

[…] the estate of that flourishing towne was turned arsie versie, topside the otherwaie, and from abundance of prosperitie quite exchanged to extreame penurie.

When my friend Danielle (there's THAT name again) was pregnant with her oldest daughter we came across a book (of which I forget the title) which actually advocated smush names. One of the more...ahem...interesting names I remember is Shetom. It was a smush of Sheila and Thomas.

[…] yet, seeing it in its true light, manages to hold herself aloof from it; unconsciously conveying to one meeting her for the first time the impression that she was in San Pasqual on her own sufferance—a sort of strayling from another world who had picked upon the lonely little desert town as the scene of her sphere of action for something of the same reason that prompts other people to collect postage stamps or rare butterflies.