[…] a lame, imperfect Piece, rudely daub’d over with too little Reflection and too much haste.
Douglas: You've got spunk. And balls. And I like that in a woman.
“Boy, is it really making down! And those flakes are the kind I used to think the fairies used for cushions when I was a little kid. It won't take long to pile up several inches of that stuff. I hope it quits soon so we can go out to the trail this afternoon.”
Wherefore are we counted as beasts, and reputed vile in your sight?
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