The spilt milk would be offered as a gift to Surf God Huey who would surely reward our kindness with sick waves. — surfingnz.com, Road Trip #6

[…] the Lord Treasurer, who ever secretly feigned himself to be a Moderator and Mollifier of the Catholicks Afflictions […]

Melanie, who was used to Wani's costive memos, and even to dressing up the gist of a letter in her own words, stuck out her tongue in concentration as she took down Nick's old-fashioned periods and perplexing semicolons.

Down there where the Bibe had her hole out of which she would howl to the rising moon and to the fairy peoples that would be peeping out at the new moon only to withdraw their small heads as they heard the cry of the Bibe.