Moses supposes this prose is necrosis.
Diamonds are created under extreme pressure, and so are poor decisions.
How I hated the idle pleasures of those days.
I mean -- I could just coast on my good looks, but what's the challenge in that?
Communication by telepathy can't come soon enough for me.
I'm off to a rocky start.
May Trump find a lump of clean coal in his stocking.
I tried to get this to fit on a postcard -- couldn't be done.
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