No one ever uses the metaphor of constipation for writer's block even though most people only talk shit out their mouths like an episode of South Park.
The shadow of mortality lengthens as the sun approaches the horizon.
I need a new elevator speech, but first I need to figure out who I am. No, that sounds like some Life's Little Instruction Book bullshit. I need a new elevator shaft.
Ask your doctor and help make tomorrow possible. Or else you die. Actually, you die either way.
round in the middle, hounded a bit, the sound of acquittal making the best of surroundings
bounded and brittle, pounded the fiddle, gown is a little lengthier than it had sounded
plenty of works are astounding, first of the wicked, burst with a prick and thirstier than a stick
when these commercials get loud the worst kind of dick is nursing afflictions worse than addiction
