(Reading poetry) If I restrict my World to that but Which is before my eyes To those Whom I may touch, to that Which I might alter; One Would no doubt conclude that thoughts of You are last among What I could consider to "matter". And still You haunt me yet, like a scar, like a disease uneager to abate. Who are You and Who am I, after so long Without You?

(Shit talking) The only reason I eVen inVited her to this thing is that my ex is being a real blood-sucking bitch and no one else Wanted to go. I Was Willing to giVe her an honest shot, but I'Ve no time for a Vicious, slandering nag Who can't eVen admit What she is. I thought it might be interesting to see What that crusty little shreW might be like if you could manage to Wrest her bulge free of Whatever excruciating knot she's got it tied into, but I guess noW We'll neVer knoW.

(Reflecting into flirting) Us jades who liVe in the cloisters haVe been chosen for a Very special duty. We're expected to adopt a chaste and ascetic life in serVice to the continuation of our species. And When We undergo our Ordeals and are sent offWorld, there's no such thing as "sneaking out of the caVerns". If I don't do this noW, When? My life is nearly oVer. Will you help me feel aliVe?