I act as a sponge. I soak it up and squeeze it out in ink every two weeks.
In the history of art there are periods when bread seems so beautiful that it nearly gets into museums.
She had storms all her life, but she died peacefully.
She felt about a love set as a painter does about his masterpiece; each ace serve was a form of brushwork to her, and her fantastically accurate shot-placing was certainly a study in composition.
