Epics which cost him fifteen and sixpence a piece, and us nothing, are quotidianly placed before us by the fertile invention of this great master of the art of advertising.

Even the big houses are shifting, here today and gone tomorrow, cut in half, jacked up on a truck (the speculators happy as a box of fluffy ducks) and carted off to the country.

Peace, you fat bawſon, peace

They had taken a lot of cookie communion since their mother’s death, but the jar was still packed to the rim. On this particular night, the ones on top were macaroons. When Rhett stirred them aside, he saw chocolate chippers beneath.