That every thing has a real constitution, whereby it is what it is, and on which its sensible qualities depend, is past doubt.
There chaunced to the Princes hand to rize, / An auncient booke, […]
White leeks, beef pasties, ducks and chines, hares and coneys in civey, a geneste (p. 174) of larks, great joints.
“I want to fuck gender. What does that mean? It means taking gender, a beautiful, wonderful thing and rockin it just right. Most cisfolk, they're stuck holding hands. And that's not to say no cisfolk fuck gender, or that hand holding isn't its own amazing thing. […]”
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