May I be damned in heaven and hell, I'm looking for that drunken parandero, that tramp, my capataz.

Then he slapped both women, in turn. Whores. Christing, bloody, bleeding whores! he muttered.

Sententialism does not entail that only verbal creatures can enjoy a mental language. Neither does it presuppose that an intelligent creature's language of thought must be its language of communication, […]

Put … a gun to my head to name the domaine, I would blurt out la Romanée-Conti, for the spicy cassis and black cherry alone.