Their days of rest are wrested from them, their feasts are fasts, their lot is dust instead of luster.

I mean, the Fomalhauters weren't having enough problems with the repairs to their exhaust duct—their StarGrazer'd taken a hit from a rogue microplanetoid—then this earthbound yo-yo tries to put a goddam drift netter up their tailpipe.

Each body is in this sense two bodies […] or a kind of double helix where two opposite sides of one ribbon touch and describe a circle of time and space, a here and now, an entry into worldness. Or, rather, in the case of the animate human body, almost touch, almost close into a circle, and this almostness is equally essential to the possibility of worldness.

In fact, the renovated appearance of this monster—à propos de bottes, as one may say—had already excited considerable sensation among the population of Hazeldean.