Alice Malloy had dark, stringy hair, and even her husband, who loved her more than he knew, was sometimes reminded by her lean face of a tenement doorway on a rainy day, for her countenance was long, vacant, and weakly lighted, a passage for the gentle transports and miseries of the poor.
I have you here. Why shouldn’t I be pleased? (Stryker) I can think of a million reasons, starting with the fact that I want to kill you more than I want to breathe. As for the others, would you prefer them in order of importance or alphabetically? (Zephyra)