It is not only lost, but in its spilling stains and spoils gown or carpet, and should it fall upon the bare ground, can add nothing to the producing powers of the earth; it is always just spilt milk, and not worth crying over.
Perhaps because the editors are women, there tends to be less comparable detailing of female anatomy. Presumably there's no taboo against it after so many years of feminist celebration of the flower-petal beauties of femalia, the paintings of Judy Chicago et al.
These are great invitements unto men to become saints.
Thinks I to myself, “Sol, you're run off your course again. This is a rich man's summer ‘cottage’ […].” So I started to back away again into the bushes. But I hadn't backed more'n a couple of yards when I see something so amazing that I couldn't help scooching down behind the bayberries and looking at it.
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