were the Pythagorean ses- quipedalia of the white friar’s father that converted from moonshine the fostermother of the Word-Faith teachers are the florals, from foncey and pansey to papavere’s blush, foresake-me-nought, while there’s leaf there’s hope, with primtim’s ruse and marry- may’s blossom, all the kules in Kroukaparka or oving to all of His Nabis, prostitating their seifs eachwise and combinedly. Fateha, fold the hands. Be it soon. Ah ho! Say no more