Oh, these clerics. The pinheads plot, form batallions, spread their wings. Sent out clanish night patrols with the aim of cloistering all comers. They would cloister oysters. Are you shaking? How did you arrive at this particular asylum? The cloak of night is nothing compared to the cloak of men.

Should my son stand in the way I would watch him drown to be with you. And if your straight jacket prevents you from reaching me, I will plunge from the roof into the solarium where venus fly traps struggle to survive the petty literalists.

The back seat of this car has no handles, I climbed in for a smoke and snooze and then I was trapped. Hmmm, you think my dress too revealing; I will speak with the dressmaker about it.