p. 12, etc.

I bet the nun in Chaucer's tale wore exciting undergarments.

The gypsy was wrong: I found no divine inspiration in my tea leaves and the caffeine wore off in a matter of minutes. Despite it all, the page before me remains blank.

"Isn't the world a beautiful place?" she said. "I think the world is the most beautiful place I've ever been."

In fact, I've always found math too sour to share with loved ones, so the Alley Cat writes writes writes recipes on post cards and sends them to my apartment in Tulsa. I don't have an apartment in Tulsa, but the feline won't taste a morsel of my cooking anyway.

"You see," I explained, "everything's connected. If I'd ordered sausage instead of mushroom pizza, it wouldn't've rained. Everything's connected."
"I do see," she purred.
"But," (oh how I jumped at this opportunity), "I don't eat meat, so never could we have avoided getting our feet wet."
"Unless we hadn't gone outside," she offered.
"No, if we hadn't gone outside then surely we would have washed them eventually."

A clock with all its numbers on backwards will still tell time perfectly well, but gives the illusion of things going in reverse when read in a mirror.

My mind is like a spoon.