Turtles live for conquering a hurdle and love for snapping hibiscus with myrtle. But, livor? That is left for Yertle. ; )

Oh, hund-of-dachs, how your holophrastic barks have so precisely procured for yourself either strolls, bowls, or goals, but, now that you are on the fowl prowl, you are going to need to talk with, as well, woof, whine, and howl . ; )

If I was a particle of light, I would feel bright—but, also invisible somewhat. After traveling years—the distance kind—from a sun’s energy burst, how heavenly would it be to alight for restful reflection, after what would feel like eons, upon a lambent ripple or through a corsaged, prismatic vessel? Oh, an escapade to an etalon would also be out of sight, but if I was a particle of light, a pool with a view would be most right. ; )

Zoe thought she felt love, but she also felt unsure, so she played the daisy game with zeal. Alas, however many petals she picked, even to zenzizenzizenzic, she found no solution until she started-ended with just one—herself as real. ; )

For every case that excludes those forms that try to fit, do not throw one and stay calm-calm—as lucky are those who are handed a spuckie whilst they eschew grids for a dimensional view in order to break blocks under the splash of a palm-palm. ; )