He was no better than the smug marrieds who haunted Central Park, guzzling boydick then bringing hepatitis home to their wives.
The idea might not be so bad; why don't you run it up the flagpole at the next board meeting?
Here ended, then, / Progress this way. When, in the very nick / Of giving up, one time more, came a click / As when a trap shuts – you're inside the den!
As it were, to ride day and night; and […] not to have patience to shift me.
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