This was strangely heightened at times by the ragged Elijah's diabolical incoherences uninvitedly recurring to me, with a subtle energy I could not have before conceived of.
The wildness of the savage is but a faint symbol of the awful ferity with which good men and lovers meet.
James Beattie personifies the Pinkerton syndrome perfectly, for, while publishing lists of Scotticisms to be avoided, he still found time to write the occasional verse in Scots himself.
Y'see, they’re just like us.
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