a twin-turbined engine
Of all the queer collections of humans outside of a crazy asylum, it seemed to me this sanitarium was the cup winner. […] When you're well enough off so's you don't have to fret about anything but your heft or your diseases you begin to get queer, I suppose.
[…] nigh her lids eclipse Each half-occulted star beneath that lies;
The wine in my bottle will recover him.
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