Hey, Sam, how 'bout you tickle the ivories with that song you played for us in Paris, huh?
That shark is pretty big, so maybe we ought to upgrade our watercraft.
I suggest, gentlemen, that you aim carefully so as not to botch our execution. Thank you.
(I once saw a photographic, page-by-page replica of the original MS draft of Orwell’s 1984. The first page was almost solid ink, he wrote and rewrote and re-rewrote the book’s opening so much).
I’m rather fond of the odor of a highly flammable sticky jelly used in incendiary bombs and flamethrowers, consisting of gasoline thickened with special soaps, in the early hours of the day.
It was, like, almost ninety years ago that some old dudes decided to invent a new country that was, you know, free and where everybody was supposed to be excellent to each other.
My calculations of the overall length of the shark based on the part of the dorsal fin above water suggest that we’ll require a larger vessel to complete our task.