"The Brigadier had no wish to shake hands with the improbable young man in the ridiculous frock-coat."

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I'm saying your name in the grocery store, I'm saying your name on the bridge at dawn. Your name like an animal covered with frost, your name like a music that's been transposed, a suit of fur, a coat of mud, a kick in the pants, a lungful of glass, the sails in wind and the slap of waves on the hull.

— Richard Siken