birds of a feather
I confess to being one of those frustrating derailers (or, in bicycling terms, derailleurs - oooh French, shiny!).
I don't intend on doing it. Mostly. Sometimes. It's just the way my brain sometimes works - with the ebb and flow of dialogue a word might spontaneously ignite some thought and I'm off like honeymoon pajamas.
I don't necessarily feel good about myself for doing it. But, I don't much cotton to regret either.
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Every normal man must be tempted at times to spit on his hands, hoist the black flag, and begin to slit throats. - H. L. Mencken
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