There is a sense of spectral whirling through liquid gulfs of infinity, of dizzying rides through reeling universes on a comet’s tail, and of hysterical plunges from the pit to the moon and from the moon back again to the pit, all livened by a cachinnating chorus of the distorted, hilarious elder gods and the green, bat-winged mocking imps of Tartarus.

And before Pedro de los Ríos fell, he struck Pedro de Silva on the left pauldron, near the haute piece and he pierced a piece of it. And the said Pedro de Silva suffered a very serious reversal of fortune.

Like usual: babies acting like growed-ups; growed-ups acting like babies.

He is such a jerk; he gave me a sloppy wet willy.