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Brevity is the soul of lingerie.
Every year, back comes Spring, with nasty little birds yapping their fool heads off and the ground all mucked up with plants. I went to a convent in New York and was fired finally for my insistence that the Immaculate Conception was spontaneous combustion. Love is like quicksilver in the hand. Leave the fingers open and it stays. Clutch it, and it darts away.