He is writing a letter.

The baby is waving its hands and laughing.

He held a new book in his hand.

He waved his hand.

A day without seeing her feels like an eternity of waiting impatiently.

This univalve has beautiful colors, doesn't it?

His story is a mix of truth and fiction, and I don't know what's true.

This painting is my most precious item under heaven.

My class starts at eleven o'clock.

My younger sister is twenty-one years old.