[A]n acquaintance she soon after formed with Henry Mortimer, realized the object she had long dwelt on in idea.

Then she put her hand on my pants, you know, down there.

He conceived by that which he found in himself, the irrepugnable voice of Cupid, and considered (by that he knew too well) the unbridled fury of cruel...

I could have spoken in blank verse of Shakesperian beauty, all sorts of great ideas flashed through my mind; it was as though the bonds of my flesh had been loosened and left the spirit free to soar to the empyrean of its native power.