I need to pull the splinter out of my hand.

Traffic on the JFK was delayed by construction of the new bridge.

No matter how early I came down, I would find him on the veranda, smoking cigarettes, or[…]. And at last I began to realize in my harassed soul that all elusion was futile, and to take such holidays as I could get, when he was off with a girl, in a spirit of thankfulness.

Even his letters, on the few occasions when he has recourse to such devices, are free of Aeolistic flourishes: neither couched in bad Latin, nor yet graced by rhetorical tropes (p. 252)