It is not possible to practise noninjury unless selfishness is given up in respect of all external matters.

She screwed up her brow and frowned. Oh Oliver, wouldja please?

Lord Vergoin, you are well met. I trust my poor table will not too gravely disappoint you.

But even having my very own personal pronoun was risky, because it’s pretty tough to keep stopped-hope stopped up when you are getting all youed up, when someone you really like keeps promising you scary, fun, exciting stuff—and even tougher for the of that moment to remain securely devoid of hope, to make smart, self-denying decisions with Dad youing me—the long ooo of it broad and extended, like a hand.