Even at Hattie's birthday in the chapel, when we'd all shown each other our most freakish body parts, Berry had not had so much as a zit. Now she had a monster pimple, big as a raisin, categorically unpoppable […]

I doffed my hat to the wondrous horse, the fast trotter, the best in mother England; and I too drew a deep ah! and repeated the words of the old fellows around. Such a horse as this we shall never see again; a pity that he is so old.

And I'll be sworn you would believe my saying, Howe'er you lean to th' nayward.

Man, that bitch was bad—it was the best piece of pussy that I ever had.