“"...a guillotine had fallen on the neck of summer." <p. 5>"...I even convinced myself that I was Errol Flynn in 'The Adventures of Don Juan'." <p. 12>"I...pressed my lips against hers - little warm clouds of cotton candy." <p. 19>"I drove home feeling as if I had just liberated Paris." <p. 19>"As my winged chariot flew me above the treetops, I sang 'Oh, What a Beautiful Mornin' to myself all the way home." <p. 35>”
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