One time there was five smokes carved Harlem sunsets on each other down on East Eighty-four.

A ricinuleid grabs its prey with the relatively small pincers of its pedipalps, lifts its hood, and then passes the prey to its jaws. The hood is lowered as the ricinuleid chews away.

He thought rue she should, and forethink, That she her had unto him misbore.

Suburban villas, highway-side retreats, […] delight the citizen.