It is so indeed—Charles—they give into all the substantial Luxuries of the Table—and abstain from nothing but wine and wit—Oh, certainly society suffers by it intolerably—for now instead of the social spirit of Raillery that used to mantle over a glass of bright Burgundy their conversation is become just like the Spa water they drink which has all the Pertness and flatulence of champaine without its spirit or Flavour.

I whip out my phone. “Here, I'll message you on Tumblr right now.” Gabi opens her ask box. Touch your clit?

The same story is found in Icelandic, Norse, Faroish, and Estnish ballads, as well as in the Swedish and Danish, and a nearly related one in many other ballads or tales — German, Polish, Lithuanian, …

The interstellar craft sped through the vast blackness of deep space at incredible speed. The sole occupant reposed in comfort within a bubble of protective superplasma in a state of suspended animation.