It was getting bright and the people awoke in the village, while seven black women from Nigeria kissed six stubbly men and one woman good-night. The woman had more hair between her legs than any of the men had on their faces.
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Monahan
Maggie thought Nicholas could need some trimming around the beltline and that he was a nice man with potential to be a lot more than a nice man, a treasure hunter, a mysterious, hairy gollywoggle.
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The foot
The man did not want to shirk his earthly responsibilities. He did not want to die. He merely wanted to take it more slowly, sit around and watch some of the sun and the world go by rather than run along and ahead of it, get up before dawn and to bed after dusk.
Love in a mist
That Austen had been sinister was the only rational conclusion that could be drawn from her novels: hadn’t she encouraged the females of her time to rebel against social injustice and relinquish a position that women had occupied for hundreds of years?
The wave
It was a memorable scene, fixed in his memory anyway: how his father, then a young strapper, passed baby Nicholas to his wife, who passed it to her sister Agatha one moment before a giant wave took the couple out to sea, never to be seen again.
Bloody Management
It was a small world with few rules, every thing signifying an action or the suppression of an action, and quite possibly also the thought leading to such an action. It was an environment that denied the existence or necessity of personal creativity and expression, because his day was meant to be busy, and keep him busy, in the name of the company.
