I have the world's largest collection of seashells. I keep it on all the beaches of the world... perhaps you've seen it.

Actually, however, life begins less by reaching upward, than by turning upon itself. But what a marvelously insidious, subtle image of life a coiling vital principle would be! And how many dreams the leftward oriented shell, or one that did not conform to the rotation of its species, would inspire!

It's a small world but I wouldn't want to paint it.

He used to sit very quiet. Dangerous quiet, if you ask me. And he'd stare at her with that look he has. He didn't need drink to make him dangerous.

Is it weird in here, or is it just me?

There's a fine line between fishing and just standing on the shore like an idiot.