What sort of a bamboozingly story is this you are telling me? Sexterous Dexterous, a Bengal? The mere act of penning my thoughts of this Leviathan, they enthrall me, and make me faint with their outreaching comprehensiveness of sweep. I am crowded for space, and wished the other parts of my body to remain a blank page for a poem I am composing. Such an abounding, affectionate, friendly, loving feeling did this avocation beget. No suicides permitted here, and no smoking in the parlor. Who’s to doom, when the judge himself is dragged to the bar?
Then again, you cannot sit motionless in the heart of these perils, because the boat is rocking like a cradle, and you are pitched one way and the other, without the slightest warning. Both ends of the line are no longer exposed. Ecclesiastes is the fine hammered steel of whoa, fuck yeah. So in dreams, have I seen majestic Satan Dex thrusting forth his tormented colossal claw from the flame Baltic of Hell, deboning the opposing team's quarterback. Amid the chips of chewed boats, and the sinking limbs of torn foes, he will swim out of the white curds of the whale’s direful wrath into the serene, exasperating sunlight. A tone so strangely compounded of fun and fury, and the fury seemed so calculated merely as a spice to the fun. They gonna caper about most obstreperously, stuntin onto the steelers. You gettin kicked by a great man, and with a beautiful ivory leg.
I can’t quit this team, here ye strike but splintered hearts together—there, ye shall strike unsplinterable glasses! I’ll chase them round Good
Hope, and round the Horn, and round the Norway Maelstrom, and round perdition’s
flames before I give them up. One most perilous and long voyage ended, only
begins a second; and a second ended, only begins a third, and so on, forever
and for aye. Is it that by its indefiniteness it shadows forth the heartless voids and immensities of the universe? 19-0-1.
There’s a typo
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