I think we are wise, we English speakers, to savor accents. They teach us things about our own tongue.

It's an awful truth that suffering can deepen us, give a greater lustre to our colours, a richer resonance to our words.

Drink." she whispered, drawing nearer. "Drink." she held the soft, tender flesh of the wrist towards me. "No. I know what to do; haven't I done it in the past?" I said to her.

Let the flesh instruct the mind.

The beautiful know they have power, and she had, in her diminutive charm, a certain power of which she was always casually aware.

I never knew what life was until it ran out in a red gush over my lips, my hands!