Half choked by a rising paroxysm of rage. Half suffocated by his triumph. Hardened into convictions and resolves. Hottiness and arrogance were largely attributed to him. Haunt the recesses of the memory. Haunted with a chill and unearly forevoting. He accosted me with trevitation. He adroitly shifted his ground. He eerily lampooned their most cherished prejudices. He bowed submission. He braced himself to the exquisite burden of life. He condescended to intimate speech with her. He conversed with a colorless fluency. He could detect the hollow ring of fundamental nothingness. He could do absolutely not. He drank of the spirit of the universe. He drew near to a desperate resolve. He evinced his displeasure by a contemptuous sneer or grim scowl. He felt an unaccountable loathing. He felt the ironic rebound of her words. He flung diffidence to the winds. He flushed crimson. He found the silence intolerably irksome. He frowned perplexedly. He gave her a baffled stare. He gave himself to a sudden daydream. He gave his ear to this demon of false glory. He grew one with success. He had acted with chivalrous delicacy of honor. He had the eye of an eagle in his trade. He had the gift of deep, dark silences. He held his breath in admiring silence. He laughed away in my protestations. He lent no countenance to insensate prattle. He listened greedily and gazed intent. He made a loathsome object. He made the politest of monosyllabic replies. He murmured a civil rejoinder. He murmured a vague acceptance. He mused a little while in grave thought. He never wears an argument of tatters. He only smiled with fatuous superiority. He paused stunned and comprehending. He perceived the iron hand within the velvet glove. He raised a silencing hand. He ruled autocratically. He sacrificed the vulgar prizes of life. He sat on thorns. He shambled away with speed. He sighed deeply from a kind of mental depletion. He smote her quickening sensibilities. He submitted in brooding silence. He suppressed every sign of surprise. He surrendered himself to gloomy thought. He threaded a labyrinth of obscure streets. He threw a tons weight of resolve upon his muscles. He threw out phrases of ill humor. He threw round a measuring eye. He treads the primrose path of dalliance. He used an unguarded adjective. He was a tall, dark, saturnine youth, sparing of speech. He was aware of emotion. He was born to a lively and intelligent patriotism. He was dimly mistrustful of it. He was discreetly silent. He was empty of thought. He was entangled in a paradox. He was giving his youth away by handfuls. He was haunted and beguird by presences. He was measured and urbane. He was most profoundly skeptical. He was nothing if not grand eloquent. He was quaking on the precipice of a bad, billowless attack. He was utterly detached from life. He went hot and cold. He would fall into the blackest melancholys. He writhed in the grip of a definite apprehension. He writhed with impotent humiliation. Her blank gaze chilled you. Her bright eyes were triumphant. Her eyes danced with malice. Her eyes dilated with pain and fear. Her eyes were full of wondering interest. Her eyes were limpid, and her beauty was softened by an air of indolence and langer. Her face stiffened anew into a gray obscenity. Her face was lit up by a glow of inspiration and resolve. Her haughty staff waxed timorous and vigilant. Her head throbbed dangerously. Her heart appeared to abdicate its duties. Her heart fluttered with a vague terror. Her heart pounded in her throat. Her heart was full of speechless sorrow. Her hurrying thoughts clamored for utterance. Her imagination recoiled. Her interest flagged. Her life had dwarfed her ambitions. Her limbs ran to marble. Her lips hardened. Her lips parted in a keen expectancy. Her mind was a storehouse of innocuous anecdote. Her mind was beaten to the ground by the catastrophe. Her mood was unaccountably chilled. Her musings took a sudden and arbitrary twist. Her scarlet lip curled cruelly. Her smile was faintly depreciatory. Her smile was linked with a sigh. Her solicitude thrilled him. Her stare dissolved. Her steps seemed to pity the grass it pressed. Her strength was scattered in fits of agitation. Her stumbling ignorance, which sought the road of wisdom. Her thoughts outstripped her airing feet. Her tone was gathering her monstrance. Her tongue on the subject was sharpness itself. Her tongue stumbled and was silent. Her voice had the coaxing inflections of a child. Her voice trailed off vaguely. Her voice was full of temper, heart held. Her voice, with a tentative question in it, rested in air. Her wariness seemed put to route. His accents breathed profound relief. His agitation increased. His brow grew in knit and gloomy. His brow was in his hand. His conscience leapt to the light. His constraint was excruciating. His curiosity squinched. His dignity counseled him to be silent. His ears sang with the vibrating intensity of his secret existence. His eyes had a twinkle of reminiscent pleasantry. His eyes literally blazed with savage fire. His eyes shone with the pure fire of a great purpose. His eyes stared unseeingly. His face caught the full strength of the rising wind. His face dismissed its shadow. His face fell abruptly into stern lines.  His face showed a pleasant bewilderment. His face torn with conflict. His face was gravely authoritative. His gaze faltered and fell. His gaze searched her face.  His hands supported his chin. His hands were small and perhensible. His heart asserted itself again, thunderously beating. His heart rebuked him. His heart was full of enterprise. His impatient scorn expired. His last illusions crumbled. His lips loosened in a furtively exalted smile. His lips seemed to be permanently parted in a good, humored smile. His mind echoed with words. His mind leapt gladly to meet new issues and fresh tides of thought. His mind was dazed and wandering in a mist of memories. His mood yielded. His mouth quivered with pleasure. His passions vented themselves with sneers. His pulses leapt anew. His reputation had withered. His sensibilities were offended. His shrewd gaze fixed appraisingly upon her.  His soul was compressed into a single agony of prayer. His soul was rung with a sudden, wild homesickness. His speech faltered. His swift and caustic satire. His temper was dark and explosive. His thoughts galloped. His thoughts were in clamoring confusion. His tone assumed a certain asperity. His torpid ideas awoke again. His troubled spirit shifted its load. His vagrant thoughts were in full career. His voice insensibly grew inquisitorial. His voice was thick with resentment and futile protest. His whole face was lighted with a fierce enthusiasm. His whole frame seemed collapsed and shrinking. His whole tone was flippant and bumpchewous. His words trailed off brokenly. His youthful zeal was contagious. Hope was far and dim. How sweet and reasonable the pale shadows of those who smile from some dim corner of our memories. Humiliating paltriness of revenge. End of Section 99. This recording is in the public domain. Section 100 of 15,000 Useful Phrases by Grenville Kleiser, read for LibriVox.org by David Best. I I capitulated by inadvertence. I cut my reflections adrift. I felt a qualm of apprehension. I suffered agonies of shyness. I took the good day from the hands of God as a perfect gift. I was in a somber mood. I was overshadowed by a deep boating. I was peaked. I yielded to the ingratiating mood of the day. Ill-bred insolence was his only weapon. Ill-dissimulated fits of ambition. Imbued with avernal freshness. Immense and careless prodigality. Immense objects which dwarf us. Immersed in secret schemes. Immured in a trivial round of duty. Impassioned in earnest language. Impatient and authoritative tones. Impervious to the lessons of experience. Implying an immense melancholy. Imprisoned within an enchanted circle. In a depreciating tone of apology. In a flash of revelation. In a gale of teasing merriment. In a misery of annoyance and mortification. In a musing ecstasy of contemplation. In a sky stained with purple the moon slowly rose. In a spirit of indulgent irony. In a strain of exaggerated gallantry. In a tone of after-dinner perfunctoriness. In a tone of musing surprise. In a tumult of self-approval and towering exultation. In a vague and fragmentary way. In a wise, superior, slightly scornful manner. In accents of menace and wrath. In its whole, unwieldy compass. In moments of swift and momentous decision. In quest of something to amuse. In requital for various acts of rudeness. In the air was the tang of spring. In the dusky path of a dream. In the face of smarting disillusions. In the flush and heyday of youth and gaiety and loveliness. In the heyday of friendship. In the mild and mellow maturity of age. In the perpetual presence of everlasting verities. In this breathless chase of pleasure. In this chastened mood I left him. Incapable of initiative of boldness. Inconceivable perversion of reasoning. Endulently handsome eyes. Indulge in pleasing discursiveness. Ineffable sensation of irritability. Infantile insensibility to the solemnity of his bereavement. Infantine simplicity and lavish waste. Enumerable starlings clove the air. Insensible to its subtle influence. Inspired by the immortal flame of youth. Intangible and indescribable essence. Intense love of excitement and adventure. Intimations of unpenetrated mysteries.  Into the purple sea the orange hues of heaven sunk silently. Into the very vestuable of death. Involuntarily she sighed. Involuntary awkwardness and reserve. Involved in a labyrinth of reflexities. It came to him with a stab of enlightenment. It elicited a remarkably clear and coherent statement. It is a flight beyond the reach of human magnanimity. It is a thing infinitely subtle. It is not every wind that can blow you from your anchorage. It lends snow dazzling tense to fancy. It moved me to a strange acceleration. It parted to a liquid horizon and showed the gray rim of the sea. It proved a bitter disillusion. It seemed intolerably tragic. It seemed to exhale a silent and calm authority. It was a breathless night of suspense. It was a desolating vision. It was a night of little ease to his toiling mind. It was a night of stupefying surprises. It was all infinitely soft and refreshing to the eye. It was an evening of great silences and spaces wholly tranquil. It was sheer exuberant instinctive unreasoning careless joy. It was the ecstasy and festival of summer. It was torture of the most exquisite kind. Jay. Jealousies and animosities which pricked their sluggish blood tingling. Joy rioted in his large dark eyes. Judging without waiting to ponder over bulky tomes. Kay. Kind of unscrupulous contempt for gravity. Kiss-provoking lips. End of section 100. This recording is in the public domain. Language of excessive flattery and adulation. Lapped in soft music of adulation. Laps into pathos and absurdity. Large dark luminous eyes that behold everything about them. Latent vein of whimsical humour. Lead to the strangest aberrations. Leaping from lambent flame into eager and passionate fire. Leave to the imagination the endless vista of possibilities. Life flowed in its sweetest voice. Life flowed in its sweetest voice. Life flowed in its accustomed stream. Lights and shadows of reviving memory crossed her face. Lionized by fashionable society. Long, intertangled lines of silver streamlets. Lost in a delirious wonder. Lost in irritable reflection. Love hovered in her gaze. Ludicrous attempts of clumsy playfulness and tawdry eloquence. Lukewarm assurance of continued love. Lulled by dreamy musings. Luminous with great thoughts. Magnanimous indifference to meticulous niceties. Making the ear greedy to remark offence. Marching down to posterity with divine honours. Marked out for some strange and preternatural doom. Morkishly effeminate sentiment. Memories plucked from wood and field. Memory was busy at his heart. Merged in a sentiment of an utterable sadness and compassion. Microscopic minuteness of eye. Misgivings of grave kinds. Mockery crept into her tone. Molded by the austere hand of adversity. Moments of utter idleness and incipidity. Moods of malicious reaction and vindictive recoil. Morn in yellow and white came broadening out of the mountains. Mumble only jargon of dotage. My body is too frail for its moods. Nature seemed to revel in unwanted contrasts. New ambitions pressed upon his fancy. New dreams began to take a wing in his imagination. Night after night the skies were wine blue and bubbling with stars. Night passes lightly in the open world with its stars and dews and perfumes. Nights of featherless blackness. No mark of trick or artifice. Noble and sublime patience. Nursed by brooding thought. Obsessed with the modishness of the hour. Occasional flashes of tenderness and love. Oddly disappointing and fickle. One gracious fact emerges here. One long torture of soul. One of the golden twilights which transfigured the world. Oppressed and disheartened by an all-pervading isolation. Oppressed with a confused sense of cumbrous material. Outweighing years of sorrow and bitterness. Over and over the paroxysms of grief and longing submerged her. Overhung and overspread with ivy. Overshadowed by a vague depression. Pale and vague desolation. Palla of reflected glories. Palpitating with rage and wounded sensibility. Panting after distinction. Peace brooded over all. Pelted with an interminable torrent of words. Penetrate beneath the surface to the core. People to the night with thoughts. Perpetual gloom and seclusion of life. Permanent to the thread of the discussion. Pervasive silence which wraps us in a mantle of content. Piles of golden clouds just peering above the horizon. Platitudinous and pompously sentimental. Plaudits of the unlettered mob. Pleasant and flower-strune vistas of airy fancy. Pledged with enthusiastic fervour. Plumbing the depths of my own fears. Poignant doubts and misgivings. Power of intellectual metamorphosis. Power to assuage the thirst of the soul. Precipitated into mysterious depths of nothingness. Preening its wings for a skyward flight. Pressing cares absorbed him. Pride working busily within her. Proclaimed with joyous defiance. Prodigal of discriminating epithets. Predigious boldness and energy of intellect. Products of dreaming indolence. Profound and chilling solitude of the spot. Proof of his impertability and indifference. Provocative of bitter hostility. Pulling the strings of many enterprises. Purge the soul of nonsense. Quickened and enriched by new contacts with life and truth. Quivering with restrained grief. Radiant with the beautiful glamour of youth. Ransack the vocabulary. Red tape of officialdom. Redolent of the night lamp. Reflecting the solemn and unfathomable stars. Regarded with an exulting pride. Rehabilitated and restored to dignity. Remorselessly swept into oblivion. Resounding generalities and conventional rhetoric. Respect forbade downright contradiction. Restless and sore, haughty feelings were busy within. Retort leapt to his lips. Rigid adherence to conventionalities. Rudely disconcerting in her behaviour. Rudely reminded of life's serious issues. End of section 101. This recording is in the public domain. Recording by Peter Darby of Rithin, Denbyshire, Wales. Section 102 of 15,000 Useful Phrases by Grenville Kleiser. Read for LibriVox.org. Yes. Sacrificed to a feudal sort of treadmill. Sadness prevailed among her moods. Scorched with the lightning of momentary indignation. Scorning such paltry devices. Scotched but not slain. Scrupulous morality of conduct. Seemed to swim in the sort of blurred mist before the eyes. Seething with suppressed wrath. Seize on greedily. Sensuous enjoyment of the outward show of life. Serenity beamed from his look. Serenity of paralysis and death. Seriousness lurked in the depths of her eyes. Served to recruit his own jaded ideas. Set her new in some fresh and appealing form. Setting all the sane traditions at defiance. Shadowy vistas of Sylvan beauty. She affected disdain. She assented in precisely the right terms. She bandied's adjectives with the best. She challenged his dissent. She cherished no petty resentments. She curled her vestidious lip. She curled her lip with defiant scorn. She did her best to mask her agitation. She disarmed anger and softened asperity. She disclaimed fatigue. She fell into a dreamy silence. She fell into a dreamy silence. She fell into a abstracted reverie. She felt herself carried off her feet by the rush of incoherent impressions. She flushed an agitated pink. She forced a faint, quivering smile. She frowned in comprehension. She had an air of restrained fury. She had an undercurrent of acidity. She hugged the thought of her own and unapplauded integrity. She lingered a few leisurely seconds. She nodded mutely. She nourished a dream of ambition.  She poured out on him the full opulence of a proud recognition. She questioned inimically. She recaptured herself with difficulty. She regarded him stonely at a flint blue eyes. She sat eyeing him with frosty calm. She seemed the embodiment of dauntless resolution. She seemed wrapped in a veil of lassitude. She shook hands grudgingly. She softened her frown to a quivering smile. She spoke with hurried eagerness. She spoke with sweet severity. She stilled and trampled on the inward protest. She stood her ground with the most perfect dignity. She strangled a fierce tide of feeling that welled up within her. She swept away all opposing opinion with the swift rush of her enthusiasm. She thrived on insincerity. She twitted him merrily. She was both weary and placated. She was conscious of a tumultuous rush of sensations. She was dimmer and dimly appealing. She was exquisitely simple. She was gripped with a sense of suffocation and panic. She was in an anguish of sharp and penetrating remorse. She was oppressed by a dead melancholy. She was stricken to the soul. She wore an air of wistful questioning. Sheer superfluity of happiness. Sickening contrasts and diabolic ironies of life. Silence fell. Singing lustily as if to exercise the demon of gloom. Skirmishes and retreats of conscience. Slender experience of the facts of life. Slope towards extinction. Slow the movement was entortuous. Slowly disengaging its significance from the thicket of words. So innocent and her exuberant happiness. Soaring to a rosy zone of contemplation. Softened by the solitude of untiring and anxious love. Solitary and sorely smitten souls. Some dim remembered and dreamlike images. Some exquisite refinement in the architecture of the brain. Some flash of woody irrelevance. Something curiously suggestive and engaging. Something eminently human beckoned from his eyes. Something full of urgent haste. Something indescribably reckless and desperate in such a picture. Something that seizes tyrannously upon the soul. Sore beset by the pressure of temptation. Spacious show of impeccability. Spectacular display of wrath. Spir and whip the tired mind into action. Stale and facile platitudes. Stamped with unutterable and solemn woe. Startled into perilous activity. Startling leaps over vast gulfs of time. Stem the tide of opinion. Stern emptying of the soul. Stimulated to an ever deepening subtlety. Stirred into a true access of enthusiasm. Stony insensibility to the small pricks and frictions of daily life. Strange capacities and suggestions both of vehemence and pride. Strange laughings and glittering of silver streamlets. Stripped to its bare skeleton. Stroke forth imperiously. Struck by a sudden curiosity.  Stung by his thoughts and impatient of rest. Stung by the splendor of the prospect. Subdued passages of unobtrusive majesty. Sublime indifference to contemporary usage and taste. Submission to an implied rebuke. Subtle indications of great mental agitation. Subtle suggestions of remoteness. Such things as the eye of history sees. Such was the petty chronicle. Suddenly a thought shook him. Suddenly overawed by a strange, delicious shyness. Suddenly smitten with unreality. Suddenly snuffed out in the middle of ambitious schemes. Suffered to languish in obscurity. Sugared remonstrances and cajoleries. Suggestions availed and vibrant feeling. Summer clouds floating feathery overhead. Sunk in a phraseological quagmire. Sunk into a gloomy river. Sunny silence broods over the realm of little cottages. Supreme arbiter of conduct. Susceptibility to fleeting impressions. Sweet smoke of burning twigs hovered in the autumn day. Swift summer into autumn flowed. End of section 102. This recording is in the public domain. Taking the larger sweeps in the march of mind. Tears of outraged vanity blurred her vision. Teased with impertinent questions. Tenderness breathed from her. Tense with the anguish of spiritual struggle. Terra filled the more remote chambers of his brain with riot. Tethered to earth. That which flutters the brain for a moment. The accelerated beat of his thoughts. The affluent splendor of the summer day. The afternoon was filled with sound and sunshine. The afternoon was waning. The air and the sky belonged to mid-summer. The air darkened swiftly. The air is touched with a lazy fragrance as of hidden flowers. The air was caressed with song. The air was full of fugitive strains of old songs. The air was raw and pointed. The allurements of a croquet. The ambition and rivalship of men.  The anguish of a spiritual conflict tore his heart. The ambition and rivalship of men.  The anguish of a spiritual conflict tore his heart. The artificial smile of Langor. The awful and implacable approach of doom. The babble of brooks grown audible. The babbledom dogs the heels of fame. The bait proved incredibly successful. The balm of solitary musing. The beauty straightway vanished. The beckoning of alien appeals. The benign look of a father. The blandishments of pleasure and pomp of power. The blinding mist came down and hid the land. The blue bowl of the sky all glorious with the blaze of a million worlds. The bound of the pulse of spring. The buzz of idolizing admiration. The caressing piece of bright soft sunshine. The chaotic sound of the sea. The chill of forlorn old age. The chill of night crept in from the street. The chivalric sentiment of honor. The chivalrous homage of respect. The clamorous agitation of rebellious passions. The clouded, restless, jaded mood. The constant irriteration of the sea's whale. The contingent of extravagant luxury. The conversation became to solitary. The crowning touch of pathos. The current of his ideas flowed full and strong. The dance whizzed on with cumulative fury. The dawn is singing at the door. The day sang itself into evening. The day was at once redolent and vociferous. The day was blunt with fog. The day was gracious. The days passed in a stately procession. The days when you dared to dream. The debilitating fears of alluring fate. The deep and solemn purple of the summer night. The deep flush ebbed out of his face. The deep tranquility of the shaded solitude. The deepening twilight filled with shadowy visions. The deepest wants and aspirations of his soul. The delicatest reproof of imagined distrust. The demerit of an unworthy alliance. The desire of the moth for the star. The dimness of the sealed eye and soul. The dreamy solicitations of indescribable afterthoughts. The dying day lies beautiful in the tender glow of the evening. The early morning of the Indian summer day was tinged with blue mistiness. The earth looked despoiled. The east alone frowned with clouds. The easy grace of an unpremeditated, agreeable talker. The easygoing indolence of a sedentary life. The echo of its wrathful roar surged and boomed among the hills. The imperpled hills standing up, solemn and sharp, out of the green, gold air. The enchanting days of youth. The eternal questioning of inscrutable fate. The evening comes with slow steps. The evening stars silvery and solitary on the girdle of the early night. The exaggerations of morbid hallucinations. The excitement of rival issues. The extraordinary, wistful look. The eye of a scrutinizing observer. The eyes burnt with an amazing fire. The eyes filled with playfulness and vivacity. The father's vigil of questioning sorrow. The fine flower of culture. The first recoil from her disillusionment. The flawless triumph of art. The flight of the autumnal days. The flower of courtesy. The fluttering of untried wings. The foreground was incredibly shabby. The fragrance of a dear and honored name. The freshening breeze struck his brow with a cooling hand. The freshness of some pulse of air from an invisible sea. The fruit of vast and heroic labors. The general effect was of extraordinary lavish profusion. The give and take was delicious. The gloom of the afternoon deepened. The gloom of winter dwelt on everything. The gloom, the insolence of self-conceit. The glow of the ambitious fire. The golden gloom of the past and the bright-hued hope of the future. The golden riot of the autumn leaves. The golden sunlight of a great summer day. The gray air rang and rippled with lark music. The grimaces and caperings of buffoonery. The grotesque nightmare of a haunting fear. The hand of time sweeps them into oblivion. The haunting melody of some familiar line of verse. The haunting phrase leaped into my brain. The headlong vigor of sheer impoverishment. The heights of magnimity and love. The high-bred pride of an oriental. The hills were clad in rose and amethyst. The hill tops gleam in the morning spring. The hinted sweetness of the challenge aroused him. The hot humiliation of it overwhelmed her. The hungry curiosity of the mind. This is the end of Section 103 of 15,000 Useful Phrases by Grenville-Kleiser readforlibervox.org by Carleen Coney, smartwriter 4-2707, Lincoln, Maine. This material is in public domain. Section 104 of 15,000 Useful Phrases by Grenville-Kleiser readforlibervox.org by Carleen Coney, smartwriter 4-2607, Lincoln, Maine. The idiosyncratic peculiarities of thought. The idle chatter of the crowd. The immediate tyranny of a present emotion. The incessible solitude of the sky. The incarnation of all loveliness. The incoherent loquacity of a nervous patient. The indefinable air of good-breeding. The indefinable yearning for days that were dead. The indefinite atmosphere of an opulent nature. The intercepted glances of wandering eyes. The intrusive question faded. The insidious stigma of selflessness. The iron hand of oppression. The irresistible and ceaseless on-flow of time. The irrevocable past and the uncertain future. The landscape ran, laughing, downhill to the sea. The leaden sky rests heavily on the earth. The leaves of time drop stealthily. The leaves syllables her name and cautious whispers. The lights winked. The little incident seemed to throb with significance. The lofty grace of a prince. The loud and urgent pageantry of the day. The low hills on the horizon were a haze of living blue. The machinations of a relentless mountbank. The machinations of an unscrupulous enemy. The magical lights of the horizon. The majestic solemnness of the moment. Yielded to the persuasive warmth of the day. The marvelous beauty of a womanhood. The maximum of attainable and communicable truth. The melancholy day weeps in a monotonous despair. The melodies of birds and bees. The memory of the night grew fantastic and remote. The meticulous observation of facts. The mind freezes at the thought. The mind was filled with a formless dread. The mocking echoes of long departed youth. The moment marked an epic. The moon is waning below the horizon. The moors, the pity. The morning beckons. The morning droned along peacefully. The most servile aquisance. The multiplicity of odors competing for your attention. The murmur of soft winds in the treetops. The murmur of the surf boomed in melancholy. The melancholy mockery. The murmur of summer seas. The music and mystery of the sea. The music of her delicious voice. The music of her presence was singing a swift melody in his blood. The music of unforgotten years sounded again in his soul. The mute melancholy landscape. The mystery obsessed him. The naked fact of death. The nameless and inexpressible fascination of midnight music. The narrow glen was full of the brooding power of one universal spirit. The nascent spirit of chivalry. The night was drowned in stars. The old, ruddy conviction deserted me. The onrush and vividness of life. The opulent sunset. The orange pomp of the setting sun. The oscillations of human genius. The outpourings of a tenderness reawakened by remorse. The pageantry of sea and sky. The palest abstractions of thought. The palpitating silence lengthened. The panorama of life was unrolled before him. The paraphernalia of power and prosperity. The parting crimson glory of the ripening summer sun. The past slowly drifted out of his thought. The pendulous eyelids of old age. The penetrating odors assailed his memory as something unforgettable. The pent-up intolerance of years of repression. The perfume of the mounting sea saturated the night with wild fragrance. The frequency of pageant life. The pith and sinew of mature manhood. The plentitude of a beacons ways. The presage of disaster was in the air. The pressure of accumulated misgivings. The preternatural pompicities of the pulpit. The pristine freshness of spring. The pull of soul on body. The pulse of the rebounding sea. The purging sunlight of clear poetry. The purple vaulted night. The question drummed in his head and heart day and night. The question irresistibly emerged. The quick pulse of gain. The radiant serenity of the sky. The radiant stars brooded over the stainless fields white with freshly fallen snow. The restlessness of offended vanity. The retreating splendor of autumn. The rising storm of words. The river ran darkly mysteriously by. The river sang with its lips to the pebbles. The roar of the traffic rose to thunder. The romantic ardor of a generous mind. The room had caught a solemn and awful quietude. The rosy-hued sky went widening off into the distance. The rosy twilight of boyhood. The royal arrogance of youth. The sadness in him deepened inexplicably. The scars of rancor and remorse. The scent of roses stole in with every breath of air. The sea heaved silvery far into the night. The sea slept under a haze of golden winter sun. The sea swept in folds you satisfying eye and mind. The sea wind buffered their faces. The secret and subduing charm of the woods. The seesaw of a waving courage. The coastal tourist will be tempted to tarry. The shadows of the night seemed to retreat. The shadows rested quietly under the breathless sky. The shafts of ridicule. The sheer weight of unbearable loneliness. The shiver of the dusk passed frequently down the valley. The silence grew stolid. The silence was uncomfortable and ominous. The silent day perfumed with the hidden flowers. The river's silence of the night. The sinking sun made mellow gold of all the air. The sky grew brighter with the imminent day. The sky grew in saffron with the indescribable hue that heralds the day. The sky put on the panoply of evening. The sky was a relentless, changeless blue. The sky was dull and brooding. The sky was heavily sprinkled with stars. The sky was turning to the pearly gray of dawn. The smiling incarnation of loveliness. The song of hervying rivers. The sound of the sea waxed. The spacious leisure of the forest. The spell of a deathless dream was upon them. The stars ruined spaces of the night. The stars looked down in their silent splendor. The stars seemed attentive. The steadfast mind kept its hope. The steady thunder of the sea accented in the silence. The still voice of the poet. The stillness of a forced composure. The stillness of the star hung night. The strangest thought shimmered through her. The stream forgot to smile. The stream laughed to themselves. The strident discord seemed to mock his mood. The stunning crash of the ocean saluted her. The subtle emanation of other influence seemed to arrest and chill him. The sudden rush of the awakened mind. The summit of human attainment. The sun blazed torridly. The sun goes down in the flame on the far horizon. The sun lay golden soft over the huddled hills. The sunlight spread on at a gallop along the hillside. The sun was rushing to its height through every possible phase of violence and splendor. The suspicion of secret malevolence. The swelling tide of memory. The swing of the pendulum through the arc of the centuries. This is the end of Section 104 of 15,000 Useful Phrases by Grenville Kleiser. Read for LibriVox.org by Carlene Coney, smart writer, 426-07, Lincoln, Maine. This recording is in the public domain. Section 105 of 15,000 Useful Phrases by Grenville Kleiser. Read for LibriVox.org by Carlene Coney, smart writer, 426-07, Lincoln, Maine. The tempered daylight of an olive garden. The tender grace of a day that is fled. The tension of struggling tears which strove for an outlet. The thought leaped. The timely effusion of tearful sentiment. The tone betrayed a curious irritation. The torture of his love and terror crushed him. The trees rustled and whispered to the streams. The tumult in her heart subsided. The tumult in her mind found sudden speech. The tumult of pride and pleasure. The tone of moving feet in the lamp lit city. The tyranny of nipping winds and early frosts. The unmasked batteries of her glorious gray eyes. The vacant fields looked blankly irresponsive. The vast and shadowy streams of time. The vast cathedral of the world. The vast unexplored land of dreams. The velvet of the cloudless sky grew darker. And the stars more luminous. The veneer of spurious civilization. The very pulsation and throbbing of his intellect. The very silence of the place appeared as a source of peril. The vision fled him. The vivifying touch of humor. The web of lies is rent in pieces. The wheel of her thought turned in the same desolate groove. The whispering rumble of the ocean. The white seething surf fell exhausted along the shore. The whole exquisite night was his. The whole sea of foliage is shaken and broken up with little monetary shiverings and shadows. The wide horizon flames with summer. The wild whirl of nameless regret and passion sorrow. The wild winds flew around, sobbing in their dismay. The wind charged furiously through it, panting toward the downs. The wind piped drearily. The wind was in high frolic with the rain. The winnowed taste of the ages. The woods were silent with adoration. The youth of the soul. The zenith turned shell-pink. Their erythral but enchanting beauty had expired forever. Their eyes met glancingly. Their troth had been plighted. There was a kind of exhilaration in this subtle baiting. There was a mild triumph in her tone. There was a mournful and dim haze around the moon. There was a strange massing and curving of the clouds. There was a thrill in the air. There was a time I might have trod the sunlit heights. There was no glint of hope anywhere. There was no menace in the night's silver uncomness. There was something so kindly in its easy candor. There was a spandrific grandeur. These qualities were raised to the white heat of enthusiasm. They became increasingly turbid, phantom agorial. They escaped the baffled eye. They sit heavily on the soul. They were vastly dissimilar. This exquisite conjunction and balance. This little independent thread of inquiry ran through the texture of his mind and died away. This shadowy and chilling sentiment unaccountably creeps over me. The thought shook through her empoignant pictures. Thoughts came thronging in panic haste. Thrilled by fresh and indescribable olders. Thrilled with a sense of strange adventure. Through a cycle of many ages. Through endless and leberthinent sentences. Thrilled to the depths of her being. Time had passed unseen. Tinsel glitter of empty titles. Tired with a dull, listless fatigue. To all intents and purposes. To speak with entire candor. To stay his tottering consistency. To the scourging he submitted with a good grace. Tossed disdainfully off from young and ardent lips. Touched every moment with shifting and enchanting beauty. Touched with a bewildering and elusive beauty. Trand and sentile, content for money. Transformed with an over-mastering passion. Trouble gathered on his brow. Turning the world topsy-turvy. Twilight creeps upon the darkening mind. This is the end of section 105. This material is in public domain. Section 105 of 15,000. Useful phrases of Grenville-Kleiser. Read for LibriVox.org by Carleen Coney, smart writer. 426-07 Lincoln, Maine. Section 106 of 15,000. Useful phrases by Grenville-Kleiser. Read for LibriVox.org by Carleen Coney, smart writer. 426-07 Lincoln, Maine. Unapproachable grandeur and simplicity. Unaware of her bitter taunt. Under the vivifying touch of genius. Unearthly in its malignant glee. Unfathomed depths and impossibilities. Unforced and unstudied depth of feeling. Unspoiled by praise or blame. Unspoken messages from some vester world. Unstable moral equilibrium of boyhood. Until sleep overtakes us at a stride. Untouched by the ruthless spirit of improvement. Upon the mountaintops of meditation. Your vainly plastic and versatile. Outerine grand oise, purilities. Vain allurements of folly and fashion. Variously ramified and delicately minute channels of expression. Farnished over with cold reptilian cynicism. Vast sweep of mellow distances. Veiled by some equivocation. Vibrant with the surge of human passions. The cisitudes of wind and weather. Vigor and richness of resource. Visible and palpable pains and penalties. Voices that charm the ear and echo with a subtle reticence in the soul. Volcanic upheavings of imprisoned passions. Wantonly and detestably unkind. Wayland destiny and bid him stand and deliver. Wayward and strangely playful responses.  What sorry and pitiful quibbling. When a pleasant countryside tunes the spirit to a serene harmony of mood. When music is allied to words. When the frame and the mind alike seem unstrung and listless. When the profane voices are hushed. When the waves show their teeth in the flying breeze. Whilst the morn kissed the sleep from her eyes. Whistled life away in perfect contentment. Holy alien to his spirit. With a vanquished and weary sigh. Womanly fickleness and caprice. Words and acts easily wrenched from their true significance. Worn to sredge by anxiety. Wrapped in a sudden intensity of reflection. Wrapped in an accessible mood. Wrapped in scuttling rain. Wrapped in odorous and many-colored robe. Wrapped inward contemplation. Rot of an emotion infectious and splendidly dangerous. Rot out of intense and tragic experience. Yielding to a wave of pity. Your mind enthroned in the seventh circle of content. End of Section 106. This recording is in the public domain. Section 106 of 15,000. Useful phrases by Grenville-Kleiser. Read for LibreVox.org. By Carlene Coney, smart writer. 4, 2607. Lincoln, Maine. Section 107 of 15,000. Useful phrases by Grenville-Kleiser. Read for LibreVox.org. By Sue Ann Dozier. May 8, 2007. Kansas City, Kansas. Striking similes.  A book that rins and tears like a broken saw. A breath of melancholy made itself felt. Like a chill and sudden gust from some unknown sea. A cloud in the west like a paw creeps upward. A cloud like a flag from the sky. A cluster of stars hangs like fruit in the tree. A confused mass of impressions. Like an old rubbish heap. A cry as of a seabird in the wind. A dead leaf might as reasonably demand to return to the tree. A drowsy murmur floats into the air like thistle down. A face as impenetrable as fate. A face as pale as wax. A face tempered like steel. A fatigued, faded, lusterless air as of a caged creature. A few pins parched by long distance. A figure like a carving on a spire. A fluttering as of blind bewildered moths. A giant galleon overhead looked like some misty monster of the deep. A glacial pang of pain like the stab of a dagger of ice frozen from a poison well. A glance that flitted through the air. A glanced that flitted like a bird. A great moon like a red lamp in the sycamore.  A hand, icely cold and clammy as death. A heart from which noble sentiments sprang like sparks from an anvil. A jeweler that glittered like his shop. A lady that leaned in the air. A lady that leaned on his arm like a queen in a fable of old fairy days. A life, a presence like the air. A life as common and brown and bare as the box of earth in the window there. A light wind outside the lattice swayed a branch of roses to and fro, shaking out their perfume as from a swinging censor. A lightening phrase that glittered like his shop. A lightening phrase as if shot from the quiver of infallible wisdom. A list of our unread books torments some of us like a list of murders. A little breeze ran through the corn like a swift serpent. A little weed-clogged ship gray as a ghost. A long slit of daylight like a pointing finger. A memory like a well-ordered cupboard. A mighty wind like a leviathan plowed the brine. A mind very like a bookcase. A mystery, soft, soothing and gentle. Like the whisper of a child murmuring its happiness in its sleep. A name which sounds even now like the call of a trumpet. A note of despairing appeal which fell like a cold hand upon one's living soul. A purpose as the steady flame. A question deep almost as the mystery of life.   A reputation that swelled like a sponge.  A shadow of melancholy touched her lithe fancies as a cloud dims the waving of golden grain. A silver moon like a new stamped coin rode triumphant in the sky.  A smile flashed over her face like sunshine over a flower. A soft and purple mist like a vaporous amethyst. A soft haze like a fairy dream is floating over wood and stream. A soul as white as heaven. A sound like the throb of a bell.  A sudden sense of fear ran through her nerves like the chill of an icy wind.  A thin shrill voice like the cry of an expiring mouse. A thing of as frail enchantment as the gleam of stars upon snow. A vague thought as elusive as the smell of a primrose. A vanishing loveliness as tender as the flesh of the rose leaf and as ethereal as the light of a solitary star. A voice as low as the sea. A voice soft and sweet as a tune that one knows.  Against a sky as clear as sapphire. Age like winter weather. Agile as a leopard. Agitated like a storm-tossed ship. Air like wine. All around them like a forest swept the deep and impurpled masses of her tangled hair. All like an icicle, it seemed, so tapering and cold. All my life broke up like some great river's ice at touch of spring. All silent as the sheeted dead. All sounds were lost in the whistle of air humming by like the flight of a million arrows. All that's beautiful drifts away like the waters. All the world lay stretched before him like the open palm of his hand. All unconscious as a flower. Alone like a storm-tossed wreck on this night of the glad new year. An anxiety hung like a dark impenetrable cloud.  An ecstasy which suddenly overwhelms your mind like an unexpected and exquisite thought. An envious wind crept by like an unwelcome thought. An ideal as sublime and comprehensive as the horizon. An immortal spirit dwelt in that frail body like a bird in an outworn cage. An impudent trick as hackneyed as conjuring rabbits out of a hat. An indefinable resemblance to a goat. An isle of paradise, fair as a gem. An old, knotting negrus whose sable head shined in the sun like a polished coconut. An omnibus across the bridge crawls like a yellow butterfly. An undefined sadness seemed to have fallen about her like a cloud. An unknown world wild as permeable chaos. An unpleasing strain like the vibration of a rope drawn out too fast. A pinnacle like a fluttered bird came flying from afar. And a tear like silver glistened in the corner of her eye. And all our thoughts ran into tears like sunshine and terrain. And at first the road comes moving toward me like a bride waving palms. And dusk with breast as of a dove brooded.  And fell as cold as a lump of clay. And her cheek was like a rose. And here were forests ancient as the hills. And many a fountain rivulet and pond as clear as elemental diamond or serene morning air. And melting like the stars in June. And night as welcome as a friend. And silence like a poultice comes to heal the blows of sound. And spangled or with twinkling points like stars. And the smile she softly uses fills the silence like speech. End of section 107. This recording is in the public domain. Recording by Sue Ann Dozier, Kansas City, Kansas. Section 108 of 15,000 Useful Phrases by Grenville Kleiser. Read for LibreVox.org by Jill Breneman. As a child in play scatters the heaps of sand that he has piled on the seashore. As a cloud that gathers her robe like drifted snow. As a flower after a drought drinks in the steady, plunging rain. As a leaf that beats on a mountain. As a lion greaves at the loss of her welps. As a man plowing all day longs for supper and welcomes sunset. As a sea disturbed by opposing winds. As amusing as a litter of likely young pigs. As arbitrary as a cyclone and as killing as a pestilence. As all steer as a Roman matron. As beautiful as the purple flush of dawn. As blind as a mole. As brief as sunset clouds in heaven. As bright as sunlight on a stream. As busy as a bee. As cattle driven by a gadfly. As chimney sweepers come to dust. As clear as a whistle. As clear as the parts of a tree in the morning sun. As close as oak and ivy stand. As delicate and as fair as a lily. As delightful to the mind as cool well water to thirsty lip. As diamond cuts diamond. As direct and unvarying as the course of a homing bird. As distinct as night and morning. As dry as desert dust.  As easily as the sun shines. As easy as a turn of the hand. As elastic as a steel spring. As extinct as the dodo. As faint as the memory of a sound. As familiar to him as his alphabet. As fatal as the fang of the most venomous snake. As fleeting and elusive as our dreams. As foam from a ship's swiftness. As fresh and invigorating as a sea breeze. As full of eager vigor as a mountain stream. As full of spirit as a gray squirrel. As gay and busy as a brook. As gently as the flower gives forth its perfume. As gently as withered leaves float from a tree. As graceful as a bough. As grave as a judge. As great as the first day of creation. As high as heaven. As I dropped like a bolt from the blue. As I dwelt like a sparrow among the spires. As if a door were suddenly left ajar into some world unseen before. As impossible as to count the stars in a limitable space. As in the footsteps of a god. As inaccessible to his feet as the clefts and gorges of the clouds. As inexorable as the flight of time. As innocent as a new laid egg. As iridescent as a soap bubble. As locusts gather to stream before a fire. As mellow and deep as a psalm. As men strip for a race so must an author strip for the race with time. As merry as bees in clover. As nimble as water. As one who has climbed above the earth's eternal snowline and sees only white peaks and pinnacles. As pale as any ghost. As patient as the trees. As quick as the movement of some wild animal. As quiet as a nun breathless with adoration. As radiant as the rose. As redly and naturally as ducklings take to water. As reticent as a well bred stockbroker. As ruthlessly as the hoof of a horse tramples on a rose. As shallow streams run dimpling all the way. As simple as the intercourse of a child with its mother. As sleep falls upon the eyes of a child tired with a long summer day of eager pleasure and delight. As some vast river of unfailing source. As stars that shoot along the sky. As still as a stone.  As sudden as a dislocated joint slipping back into place. As summer winds that creep from flower to flower. As supple as a step letter. As swaggering and sentimental as a penny novelette. As swift as thought. As the accumulation of snowflakes makes the avalanche. As the bubble is extinguished in the ocean. As the dew upon the roses warms and melts the morning light. As the fair cedar fallen before the breeze lies self-embalmed amidst the moldering trees. As the light straw flies in darkening whirlwinds. As the lightning cleaves the night. As the loud blast that tears the skies. As the slow shadows of the pointed grass mark the eternal periods. As those move easiest who have learned to dance. As though a rose should shut and be a bud again. As though Pharaoh should set the Israelites to make a pen instead of a pyramid. As approachable as a star. As weird as the orphan lights. As well try to photograph the other side of the moon. At extreme tension like a drawn bow. Away he rushed like a cyclone. Awkward as a cart horse. End of section 108. This recording is in the public domain. Section 109, 15,000 Useful Phrases by Grenville Kleiser. Read for LibriVox.org by Joe Breneman. Babbling like a child. Balmy in manner as a bland southern morning. Be like the granite of thy rock-ribbed land. Beautyous she looks as a water lily. Beautiful as the dawn, dominant as the sun. Beauty meddens the soul like wine. Be held great babble, wrathful, beautiful. Burn like a blood-red cloud upon the plain. Beneath a sky as fair as summer flowers. Bent like a wand of willow. Black as a foam-swept rock. Black his hair as the wintery night. Blythe as a bird. Bounded by the narrow fences of life. Bode like a mountain. Breaking his oath and resolution like a twist of rotten silk. Breathed like a sea at rest. Bright as a diamond in the sun. Bright as a fallen fragment of the sky. Bright as the coming forth of the morning in the cloud of an early shower. Bright as the sunbeams. Bright as the tear of an angel glittered a lonely star. Brilliant and gay as a Greek. Brisk as a wall-spin the sun shine. Briddle and bent like a bow. Bronze-green beetles tumbled over stones and lay helpless on their backs with the air of an elderly clergyman knocked down by an omnibus. Brown as the sweet-smelling loam. Brute tears like the scurrying of rats in a deserted attic. Buried in his library like a mouse in a cheese. Burns like a living coal in the soul. But across it, like a mob's menace, fell the thunder. But thou art fled, like some frail exhalation. Butterflies like gems. Calm as the night. Calm like a flowing river. Calm like a mountain brooding over the sea. Calmly dropping care like a mantle from her shoulders. Cast thy voice abroad like thunder. Charm upon charm in her was packed like rose leaves in a costly vase. Chased as the icicle. Cheeks as soft as July peaches. Choked by the thorns and brambles of early adversity. Cities scattered over the world like ant hills. Cities that rise and sink like bubbles. Clear and definite like the glance of a child or the voice of a girl. Clear as a forest pool. Clear as crystal. Clenched little hands like rumpled roses, dimpled in deer. Cloud like that island hung afar. Clouds like the petals of a rose. Cloudy mirror of opinion. Cold and hard as steel. Cold as the white rose waking at daybreak. Cold glittering monotony like a frosting around a cake. Collapsed like a concertina. Colored like a fairy tale. Companionless as the last cloud of an expiring storm whose thunder is its knell. Consecration that like a golden thread runs through the warp and wolf of one's life. Constant as gliding waters. Contending like ants for little mole hill realms. Continuous as the stars that shine. Cow slips like chants found gold. Creeds like robes are laid aside. Creeping like a snail unwillingly to school. Cruel as death. Curious as it links. Cuts into the matter as with a pen of fire. Dainty as flowers. Dance like a wave of the sea. Dark and deep as night. Dark as pitch. Dark trees bending together as though whispering secrets. Dazzling white as snow in sunshine. Deafening and implacable as some elemental force. Deer as remembered kisses after death. Deer as the light that visits these sad eyes. Deer the night to the thief. Debasing fancies gather like foul birds. Deep as the fathomless sea. Deep dark well of sorrow. Delicate as nymphs. Delicate as the flush on a rose or the sculptured line on a Grecian urn. Denominational lines like stone walls. Dependency had dropped from her like a cast-off cloak. Despondency clung to him like a garment that is wet. Destructive as the lightning flash. Die like flies. Dip and surge lightly to and fro like the red harbor buoy. Disappearing into distance like a hazy sea. Disatisfaction had settled on his mind like a shadow. Dissolve like some unsubstantial vision faded. Do make a music like two rustling satin. Dogging them like their own shadow. Thus they'll not hear the murmuring nightingale like water bubbling from a silver jar. Drop like a feather softly to the ground. Drown like rats. Dull as champagne. End of section 109. This recording is in the public domain. Section 110 of 15,000 Useful Phrases by Grenville Kleiser. Head for LibriVox.org by Joe Breneman. Each like a corpse within its grave. Each moment was an iridescent bubble fresh blown from the lips of fancy. Eager-hearted as a boy. Eager with the headlong zest of a hunter for the game. Ears that seemed as deaf as dead man's ears. Easy as a poet's dream. Emotions flashed across her face like the sweep of sun-rent clouds over a quiet landscape. Eternal as the skies. Evanescent as bubbles. Every flake that fell from heaven was like an angel's kiss. Every lineament was clear as in the sculptor's thought. Everyone on the watch like a falcon on its nest. Every phrase is like the flash of a scimitar. Exploded like a penny squib. Eyes as deeply dark as are the desert skies. Eyes as luminous and bright and brown as waters of a woodland river. Eyes half veiled by slumberous tears like bluest waters seen through the mists of rain. Eyes like a very dark topaz. Eyes like deep wells of compassionate gloom. Eyes like limpid pools in shadow. Eyes like mountain water that ore flowing on a rock. Faces pale with bliss like evening stars. Fade away like a cloud in the horizon. Faint and distant as the light of a sun that has long set. Faintly like a falling dew. Fair and fleet as a fawn. Fair as a star when only one is shining in the sky. Fallen like dead leaves on the highway. Falling away like a speck in space. Fancyful and extravagant as a califf stream.   Fields of young grain and verdured pastures like crushed velvet. Fierce as a bear in defeat. Fierce as the flames. Fills life up like a cup with bubbling and sparkling liquor. Fit closely together as the close set stones of a building. Fixed like a beacon tower above the waves of a tempest. Flame like a flag and furled. Flap loose and slack like a drooping sail. Flashed with the brilliancy of a well cut jewel. Fleeted like sweet dreams. Fleet as an arrow. Flitted like a sulf on wings. Flowers as soft as thoughts of budding love. Fluid as a rill that wonders silver-footed down a hill. Fluid as thought. Fluttered like gilded butterflies in giddy mazes. Fragile as a spider's web. Free as the air from zone to zone I flew. Free as the winds that caress. Fresh and unworn as the sea that breaks languidly beside them. Fresh as a jewel found but yesterday. Fresh as the first bean glistening on a sail. Frightened like a child in the dark. Full-throated as the sea. Furious as eagles. Gazed like a star into the morning light. Glaring like noontide. Gleam like a diamond on a dancing girl. Glistening like threads of gold. Glittered like a swarm of fireflies tangled in a silver braid. Glittering like an agret of stars. Gone astray as a sheep that is lost. Gone like a glow on the cloud at the close of day. Gone like tenants that quit without warning. Gorgeous as the hues of heaven. Grazing through a circulating library as contentedly as cattle in a fresh meadow. Great scarlet poppies lay in drifts and heaps like bodies fallen there in vain assault. End of section 110. This recording is in the public domain. Her as harsh as tropical grass and gray as ashes. Hings like a blue thread loosened from the sky. Heart sharp and glittering as a sword. Honest man like beasts of burden droid to the riverside. Horns you like the memory of some former happiness. He began to laugh with that sibilant laugh which resembles the hiss of a serpent. He bent upon the lightning page like some rapt poet or his rhyme. He bolted down the stairs like a hare. He clutters like a windmill. He danced like a man in a swarm of hornets. He fell as forced on forest lion fighting well. He fell down on my threshold like a wounded stag. He reacted exactly like an automaton. He lay as straight as a mummy. He lay like a warrior taking his rest. He lived as modestly as a hermit. He looked fagged and shallow like the day. He looked with the blunt expressionless stare of an overgrown baby. He played with grave questions as a cat plays with a mouse. He radiated vigor and abundance like a happy child. He sat down, quaking like a jelly. He saw disaster like a ghostly figure following her. He snatched furiously at a breath like a tiger snatching at mid. He spoke with a uniformity of emphases that made his words stand out like the race type for the blind. He swayed in the sudden grip of anger. He sweeps the field of battle like a monsoon. He that wavered is like a wave of the sea driven with the wind and dust. He turned on me like a thunder cloud. He turned white as chalk. He wandered restlessly through the house like a prowling animal. He was as splendidly serious as a reformer. He was as steady as a clock. He was as awoke in those clever hands. He was bold as the hook.  Herds unfold like flowers before thee. Heavy was my hardest stone. Healed like an avalanche to leeward. Her arms like slumber over my shoulders crept. Her banners like a thousand sunsets glow. Her beauty broke on him like some rare flower. Her beauty fervent as a fiery moon.  Her cheeks are like the blushing cloud. Her cheeks were wane and her eyes like coals. Her dusky cheek would burn like a poppy. Her expression changed with the rapidity of a kaleidoscope. Her eyes as bright as blazing star. Her eyes as stars of twilight fair.  Her eyes were as a daft as sickness. Her face changed with each turn of their talk like a wheat field under a summer breeze. Her face collapsed as if it were a pricked balloon. Her face was as solemn as a mask. Her face was dull as lead. Her face was like a light. Her face was passionless like those by sculpture graved from niches in a temple.  Her hair hank like summer twilight. Her hair shone like an emboss. Her hair was like a caranet.  Her hands like moonlight brushed the keys. Her head dropped into her hands like a stone broken flower. Her heart has grown icy as a fountain in the fall. Her holy love that like a vessel flame had burned. Her impulse came and went like fireflies in the dusk. Her lashes as fans upon her cheek.  Her lips are like two budded roses. Her lips like a lovely song that ripples as it flows. Her lips like twilight water. Her little lips are tremulous as brook water is.  Her mouth as sweet as a ripe fig. Her neck is like a stately tower. Her pale robe clinging to the grass seemed like a snake. Her pulses fluttered like a dove. Her skin was as the bark of birches. Her sweetness halting like a turd in May. Her two white hands like swans on a frozen lake. Her voice cut like a knife. Her voice like mournful bells crying on the wind. Her voice was like the voice the stars had when they sang together. Her voice was rich and vibrant like the middle tones of a cello. Her words sounding like wavelets on a summer shore. Herding his thoughts as a coly dog herds ship. Here and there a solitary volume gritted him like a friend in a crowd of strange faces. Here in stage-like repose an old wrinkled mountain rose. Hers was the loveliness of some tall white lily cutting the marble splendid but chill. His bashfulness mounted like a spring frost. His brow bent like a cliff over his thoughts. His cheeks were furrowed and written like rain-washed cracks. His eyes blazed like deep forests. His eyes glowed like blue coals. His eyes were hollows of madness. His hair like moldy hay.  His face was glad as down to me. His face was often lit up by a smile like pale wintry sunshine. His fingers were knotted like a cord. His formal kiss felt chill as a flake of snow on the cheek. His fortune melted away like a snow in a thaw. His glorious moments were shrunk like pearls upon a string. His indifference fell from him like a garment. His invectiveness and recuperations bite and flay like steel whips. His mind murmurs like a harp among the trees. His mind was like a lonely wild. His mind was like a summer sky. His nerves frilled like throbbing violins. His return was like a knife cut across the sinus. His revenge dissents perfect, sudden like a curse from heaven. His spirit sank like a stone. His talk is like an incessant play of fireworks. His voice is as the thin faint song when the wind warily sides in the grass. His voice rolls like a stream of rich distal perfumes. His voice was like the clap of thunder which interrupts the wobbling birds among the leaves. His whole soul wavered and shook like a wind-swept leaf. His words gave a curious satisfaction as when a coin tested, rings through gold. Hopeful as the break of day. How like a sense she sleeps.  How like the sky she bends over her child. Howling in the wilderness like beasts. Huge as hippopotamus. Hummingbirds like lake of purple fire. Hashed as the grave. Hashed like a breathless lyre. End of section 111. This recording is in the public domain. Section 112 of 15.000 Useful Phrases by Grenville Cleiser. Read for LibreVox.org by Sandra Zera. I I had grown pure as the dawn and the dew. I have heard the hidden people like the hum of swarming bees. I have seen the ravens flying like banners of old wars. I saw a face bloom like a flower. I saw a river of men marching like a tide. I saw his senses swim dizzy as clouds. I wandered lonely as a cloud. I was as sensitive as a barometer. I was no more than a straw on the torrent of his will. I will face the wrath, though it bite as a sword. Ideas which spread with the speed of light. Idol hopes like empty shadows. Impressive as a statue. Impatient as the wind. Impregnable as Gibraltar. Impressive as a warrant of arrest for high treason.  Infrequent carriages sped like mechanical toys guided by mannequins. In honor spotless as unfallen snow. In that head of his a flame burned that was like an altar fire. In yonder cottage shines a light far gleaming like a gem. Instantly she revive like flowers in water. Intangible as a dream. It came and faded like a riff of mist at eve. It cuts like knives, deserves so chill. It drops away like water from a smooth stature. It peeled through her brain like a muffled bell. It purred upon her like a trembling flood. It cracked his ears like an explosion of steam whistles. It ran as clear as a trout brook. It seemed as motionless and still as the zenith in the skies. It set his memories humming like a hive of bees. It staggered the eye like the sight of water running uphill. It stank like a frozen lash. It was as futile as to oppose an earthquake with argument. It was as if a door had been opened into a furnace so the eyes blazed. It would collapse as if by enchantment. Its temples and its palaces did seem like fabrics of enchantment piled to heaven. J. Jealousy, fierce as the fires. K. Kindle like an angel swings to western skies in flame. Kindly mornings when autumn and winter seemed to go hand in hand like a happy aged couple. Kingdoms melt away like snow. End of section 112. This recording is in the public domain. Section 113 of 15,000 Useful Phrases by Grenville Kleiser. Read for LibriVox.org by Rohanna Green on July 8, 2007 in Toronto, Canada. L. Laboring like a giant. Language streams that cross softly, slowly with the sound like smothered weeping. Laughter like a beautiful bubble from the rosebud of babyhood. Laughter like the sudden outburst of the glad bird in the treetop. Lazy merchant men that crawled like flies over the blue enamel of the sea. Lept like a hunted stag. Let his frolic fancy play like a happy child. Let in confusion like a whirling flood.  Life has been arrested as the horologist with interjected finger arrests the beating of the clock. Life stretched before him alluring and various as the open road. Life sweet as perfume and pure as prayer. Light as a snowflake. Lights gleamed there like stars in a still sky. Like a ball of ice it glittered in a frozen sea of sky. Like a blade sent home to its scabbard. Like a blast from a horn. Like a blast from the suddenly open door of a furnace. Like a blossom blown before a breeze. A white moon drifts before a shimmering sky. Like a bright window in a distant view. Like a caged lion shaking the bars of his prison. Like a calm flock of silver fleeced sheep. Like a cloud of fire. Like a cold wind his words went through their flesh. Like a crowd of frightened porpoises a shawl of sharks pursue. Like a damp-handed auctioneer.  Like a dewdrop ill-fitted to sustain unkindly shocks. Like a dipping swallow the stout ship dashed through the storm. Like a distant star glimmering steadily in the darkness. Like a dream she vanished. Like a festooned girdle encircling the waist of a bride. Like a flower her red lips parted. Like a game in which the important part is to keep from laughing. Like a glowworm golden. Like a golden shielded army. Like a great express train roaring flashing dashing headlong. Like a great fragment of the dawn it lay. Like a great ringing of pure and endless light. Like a great tune to which the planets roll. Like a high and radiant ocean. Like a high-born maiden. Like a jewel every cottage casement showed. Like a joyless eye that finds no object worth its constancy. Like a night worn out by conflict. Like a knot of daisies lay the hamlets on the hill. Like a lily in bloom. Like a living meteor. Like a locomotive engine with unsound lungs. Like a long arrow through the dark the train is darting. Like a mirage big dimly seen at first. Like a miser who spoils his coat with scanting a little cloth. Like a mist the music drifted from the silvery strings. Like a moral lighthouse in the midst of a dark and troubled sea. Like a murmur of the wind came a gentle sound of stillness. Like a noisy argument in a drawing room. Like a pageant of the golden year in rich memorial pomp the hours go by. Like a pale flower by some sad maiden cherished. Like a poet hidden. Like a river of molten amethyst. Like a rocket discharging a shower of golden stars. Like a rose embowered in its own green leaves. Like a sea of upturned faces. Like a shadow never to be overtaken. Like a shadow on a fair sunlit landscape. Like a sheeted ghost. Like a ship tossed to and fro on the waves of life's sea. Like a slim bronze statue of despair. Like a snowflake lost in the ocean. Like a soul that wavers in the valley of the shadow. Like a stalled horse that breaks loose and goes at a gallop through the plane. Like a star his love's pure face looked down. Like a star that dwelt apart. Like a star unhasting, unresting. Like a stone thrown at random. Like a summer cloud youth indeed has crept away. Like a summer dried fountain. Like a swift eagle in the morning glare breasting the whirlwind with impetuous flight. Like a thing at rest. Like a thing read in a book or remembered out of the far away past. Like a tide of triumph through their veins the red rejoicing blood began to race. Like a triumphant fire the news was born. Like a troop of boys let loose from school the adventurers went by. Like a vaporous amethyst. Like a vision of the morning air. Like a voice from the unknown regions. Like a wandering star I fell through the deeps of desire. Like a watchworn and weary sentinel. Like a wave of the sea driven with the wind and tossed. Like a whirlwind they went past. Like a withered leaf the moon is blown across the bay. Like a world of sunshine. Like a yellow silken scarf the thick fog hangs. End of section 113. This recording is in the public domain. Section 114 of 15,000 Useful Phrases by Grenville Cleiser. Read for LibriVox.org by Rohanna Green on July 8, 2007 in Toronto, Canada. Like an alien ghost I stole away. Like an eagle clutching his prey his arms swooped down. Like an eagle dallying with the wind. Like an engine of dread war he set his shoulder to the mountainside. Like an enraged tiger. Like an enthusiast leading about with him in an indifferent tourist. Like an icy wave a swift and tragic impression swept through him. Like an unbidden guest. Like an unbodied joy whose races just begun. Like an unseen star of birth. Like an unwelcome thought. Like apparitions seen and gone. Like attempting to number the waves on the shore of a limitless sea. Like bells that waste the moments with their loudness. Like blasts of trumpets blown in wars. Like bright Apollo. Like bright lamps the fabled apples glow. Like building castles in the air. Like bursting waves from the ocean. Like cliffs which have been rent asunder. Like clouds of gnats with perfect lineaments. Like cobwebs woven round the limbs of an infant giant. Like crystals of snow. Like dead lovers who died true. Like death who rides upon a thought and makes his way through temple tower and palace. Like dew upon a sleeping flower. Like dining with a ghost. Like drawing nectar in a sieve. Like earth's decaying leaves.  Like echoes from an antenatal dream. Like fixed eyes once the dear light of sense and thought has fled. Like footsteps upon wool. Like fragrance from dead flowers. Like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing. Like ghosts the sentries come and go. Like golden boats on a sunny sea. Like great black birds the demons haunt the woods. Like green waves on the sea. Like having to taste a hundred exquisite dishes in a single meal. Like heaven's free breath which he who grasps can hold not. Like helpless birds in the warm nest. Like iridescent bubbles floating on a foul stream. Like kindred drops mingled into one. Like laying a burden on the back of a moth. Like lead his feet were. Like leaves in wintry weather. Like leviathans afloat. Like lighting a candle to the sun. Like making a mountain out of a molehill. Like mariners pulling the lifeboat. Like mice that steal in and out as if they feared the light. Like mountain over mountain huddled. Like mountain streams we meet and part. Like music on the water. Like notes which die when born but still haunt the echoes of the hill. Like oceans of liquid silver. Like one pale star against the dusk. A single diamond on her brow gleamed with imprisoned fire. Like one who halts with tired wings. Like one who talks of what he loves in dream. Like organ music came the deep reply. Like pageantry of mist on an autumnal stream. Like phantoms gathered by the sick imagination. Like planets in the sky. Like pouring oil on troubled waters. Like roses that in deserts bloom and die. Like rowing upstream against a strong downward current. Like scents from a twilight garden. Like separated souls. Like serpents struggling in a vulture's grasp. Like sheep from out the fold of the sky stars leapt. Like ships that have gone down at sea. Like shy elves hiding from the traveller's eye. Like skeletons the sycamores uplift their wasted hands. Like some grave night thought threading a dream. Like some new gathered snowy hyacinth. So white and cold and delicate it was. Like some poor nigh-related guest that may not brutally be dismissed. Like some suppressed and hideous thought which flits a thwart our musings but can find no rest within a pure and gentle mind. Like some unshriven churchyard thing the fryer crawled. Like something fashioned in a dream. Like sounds of wind and flood. Like splendor winged moths about a taper. Like stepping out on summer evenings from the glaring ballroom upon the cool and still piazza. Like straws in a gust of wind. Like summers beam and summers stream. Like sunlight in and out the leaves the robins went. Like sweet thoughts in a dream. End of section 114.


The Jell-O program coming to you from Camp Callan, California, presented by Jell-O and Jell-O putting starring Jack Benny, with Mary Livingston, Phil Harris, Dennis Day, Rochester, and yours truly, Don Wilson. The orchestra opens the program with The Real American. Jell-O Friends is the word well known to dessert lovers everywhere. It's a trademark, the property of general food, and the name of America's favorite gelatin dessert. For years J-E-L-L-O has stood for Grand Dessert flavor, and today those big red letters on the box mean more flavor than ever, because now by means of a new Jell-O process, Jell-O's delightful goodness is made extra delicious. Nothing you know is more attractive than a big glistening mold of rich radiant Jell-O with its bright beauty and scintillating color, and you've never enjoyed anything more than you'll enjoy the swell tangy flavor of Jell-O. Jell-O's flavor is lively and refreshing as the juicy ripe fruit itself, and locked in for your added pleasure. Prove to yourself that Jell-O's flavor really is locked in. Open a package of Jell-O. Notice that there's no tell-tale aroma, no sign of escaping flavor. Then dissolve the Jell-O, and notice how Jell-O's captive flavor comes pouring out, gloriously rich, thrillingly good. Get Jell-O tomorrow, friends, and enjoy its extra rich, locked-in flavor. Ladies and gentlemen, from Camp Callan, California, we bring you a man who, in my opinion, is the greatest comedian in the world, which is also his opinion, Jack Benny. Thank you. Jell-O again, this is Jack Benny talking, and Don, that was a very nice introduction, but you didn't have to make such a ham out of me. I'm a great comedian. Let it go with that. Say.  I see. Well, Don, one more introduction like that, and you're going to be outspoken on some other program. Oh. Oh. Oh. So, uh, so watch it. Oh, for heaven's sake, Jack, what's the matter with you? Can't you take a rib? Only if it's got meat on it. To hear, to hear you talk, Don, we're the only two people alive who think I'm clever. Oh, I don't mean that you're not clever, Jack.   Listen, Don, now, listen, I want to ask you something.  Well, yes, but what's that got to do with it? Just this. I'm going to prove to you that there isn't one guy in this audience that doesn't think I'm great.  Love me here. Thanks, fellas. I appreciate your loyalty. Now, wait a minute, Jack. All that question proves is that these boys don't like the Jacks. That's my analysis.  I never, I never saw such a stubborn guy. Here we are at Old Camp Callan. All right, boys. Come on. Start yelling. Now, Mary. Now, listen to that. Thank you, boys, from Living Sun. Crestview 4, 6, 8, 8, 1. Mary, what's the idea of shouting out your telephone number in front of all these fellas? The shop ones will write it down. I don't care. You can put that silly poem away, too. I'll let you read it later. You better. Or I'll tell everybody what happened when you were in swimming at La Jolla this morning. I just, I just took my usual plunge in the surf. That's all. What happened to La Jolla, Mary? Well, Jack was out swimming when all of a sudden a big wave hit him and he started yelling, help, help. Oh, quiet. So a lifeguard went out, grabbed him by the hair and swam for sure. The lifeguard saved him, huh? Only his hair. Another guy had to go out for bending. Mary, it's nothing to joke about. I darn near got drowned. But Jack, a fellow who can't swim too well, shouldn't go so far out in the ocean. Oh, I'm a good swimmer, Don. This was one of those silly accidents that could happen to anybody. What do you mean? Well, I was paddling along and all of a sudden my left foot got caught in the right sleeve of my bathing suit. It was a terrible experience. Sleeves. Do you mean to say that it has sleeves? And that's another thing. Imagine being at a Ritzy beach like La Jolla. Never mind. And wearing a bathing suit that says, chew paw boy on it. Oh, don't pay any attention to her, Don. Now, Mary, you know darn well that bathing suit is plenty modern. Well, there's no cuffs on the pants if that's what you mean. I mean, it's got a two-way stretch and everything. Of course, the top piece is a little baggy there. Did that annoy you when you were in swimming? Not so much when I was in the ocean, Don. But when I took it off in the locker room, about four buckets of grunion fell out. A policeman told me I'd either have to get my suit fixed or a fishing license. The beach there is wonderful though. I imagine it is. By the way, Jack, where are you stopping? In La Jolla, I'm at the La Jolla Auto Court. It's a lovely place, Jack. That's not La Jolla. It's La Jolla. That's how you pronounce it in Spanish. Oh, oh, I didn't recognize it in print. I'm usually very good at Spanish. As a matter of fact, I used to go with a Spanish girl, Estralita Fink. Swell gal. Is that the one that used to duck baseballs at Ocean Park? She sold the baseball. Get it straight, will you? That's all she did. Say, Mr. Benny, I tried and I tried, but... Oh, hello, Dennis. Hello. Thank the boys, Dennis. Thank you, boys. Say, Mr. Benny, I tried and I tried. How, uh, how do you feel, kid? Oh, fine. Good. I thought I had dandruff yesterday, but it turned out to be rice from a wedding. From a wedding? Who got married? My girl. You didn't make me jealous. Well, don't, uh, don't fall for it. Not me. Say, Mr. Benny, I tried and I tried. Yes. But nobody wants to buy those grunnions you caught. I didn't, I didn't tell you to sell them. I told you to clean them. We're going to have a big fish fry tonight. I couldn't sell any tickets to that either. I made a fish fry for our own gang. Anyway, kid, the, uh, the boys here are all waiting to hear you sing, so how about it? All right. Say, where's Phil Harris? The maestro? I'll show up. I'll tell you, Jack, Phil's been in the clouds all week. Well, why not? He's a daddy. Just think, a seven pound baby girl. You know, when I was born, I weighed seven and a half pounds. You did? I weighed eight. I weighed almost nine pounds. Well, I weighed 43. He's not kidding, fellas, the stork that brought Wilson had to make a force landing. Sing, Dennis. The memory, the moment of love, haunts me far. Baby Lagoon sung by Dennis Day. Say, Dennis, while you were singing, I noticed something flopping around in your coat pocket. What is it? A grunion. A grunion? Yeah, I picked the best one out for a sample. Well, put it with the others, we're going to fry them. And now, ladies and gentlemen, you're not going to fry this one, we're pals. Folks, I've got a very important announcement to make. You'll have to save it, Jack. Look who's here. Well, the proud father. How are you, daddy? How are you, Jackson? Hello, fellas. Applaud yourself. Mr. and Mrs. Harris are the proud parents of a bouncing baby girl. Well, Phil, congratulations, but you know it's customary for a proud father to pass out. Oh, yes. Come on, fellas. Have a cigar. Here you are, Jackson. Well, a Corona Corona. Say, they're expensive. Have a cigar, Don. Thanks, Phil. Daddy, what? No, thanks. I too, plow boy. Oh, so nervous. Here you are, Dennis. Have a cigar. No, thank you. Hmm.  Take one. But I don't smoke, Mr. Benny. Hmm. Now, Dennis Day, you take that cigar. Oh, let the kid alone, Jackson. If you don't want a cigar, that's up to him. You stay out of it. Now, Dennis, are you going to take that Corona Corona or not? Okay, but you'll have to smoke it for me. All right. And now, ladies and gentlemen, Mary, stop staring at me. And now, ladies and gentlemen, as I, and now, ladies and gentlemen, as I started to announce, say, Jackson, I wasn't going to bring the baby down here to watch our program, but Alice wouldn't let me. Well, naturally, the child is only five days old. My goodness. What are you talking about? When I was five days old, I could lace my own shoes. Well, the reason I know that's a lie, Phil, is because you didn't wear shoes until the day after I hired you. You dragged your whole band over the floor shine. Remember? Oh, yeah. Took four salesmen to hold my guitar player down. That's right, but you can't blame Frankie. He thought they were going to brand them. And when they put the shoes on your piano player, he tried to gnaw his right foot off at the ankle. He thought he was caught in a trap. Thanks, Tuffy. What a bunch. And now, fellas, for that announcement I was going to make, it's a very important message about next season. So everybody pay attention. You too, Dennis. OK, hold my grunion.  Now, get this, fellas. As you all know, next Sunday will be our last performance for Jell-O. And beginning October 4th, we will be on the air for a different product. Great Nuts Plates. Oh, that's a great prize. Yes, sir. It's for the same company. General Pooja will be on at the same time every Sunday night over the same network. And we'll have a lot of fun. Say, Jackson, I just happen to think of something. How are you going to identify yourself with this new product? What do you mean? Well, you always start off with Jell-O again. What are you going to do with Grape Nuts Plates? Yeah, that's right. Grape Nuts Plates. Gee, I can't say grape again. Or flakes again. Why don't you say nuts again? That wouldn't work, would it, Don? Don't ask me, Jack. You know, I'm pretty upset about leaving Jell-O. But, Don, folks will still be buying Jell-O, and there'll be another Jell-O program. We're just going on for another General Pooja product. Well, maybe you're right. I guess I'm just a little bit too sentimental. You certainly are. Now, you still have this week and next to talk about Jell-O. So go ahead. Okay. Ladies and gentlemen, the next time you go down to your neighborhood grocer, why not ask him for a package of tempting and appetizing Jell-O? It's not only economical and easy to make, but with its new locked-in flavor, you will find that Jell-O. Leave him alone, Jackson. The guy has the right to be legubrious. Legubrious. That means sad. I know it does, and you've got it right. Where'd you ever get hold of a word like that? My baby taught it to me. Don't stop with that.  Say, Dennis, you want to come out to the house and see the baby distort brought me? It's all the same to you. I'd like to see the stork. Who's waiting? I got to have a talk with that kid. Laughing or crying, let's have a band number and brighten up the atmosphere around here. Okay. Jellations, Phil, what is it? A boy or a girl? Seven-pound girl, Andy. Well, girls are all right, but don't get in a rut like Eddie Cantor. Say, Andy, you forgot to say hello to Don Wilson. Oh, yeah. Hello, Don. Glad to see you, Andy. You put on a little weight. The second time that gag was good, well, a little load of this pair, folks. They look like a couple of barrage balloons in civilian clothes. Fishing down at San Diego, and I thought I'd drop in and say hello. Oh, fishing, eh? Have any luck? No, didn't catch a thing. You should have had Jack's bathing suit on. Never mind. Say, Andy, how are your folks? Are they still Batman? Yeah, they're at it worse than ever. Pa came home with a snootful the other night and Ma knocked him cold with a welcome mat. Oh, Michael, what's your father ever learned to behave? Well, Buck, I figure it's the ever-ratchet gasoline in California. He'll straighten right out. Why, Andy, you don't mean to say your pa drinks gasoline? He's gotta. He swore off a liquor 10 years ago. What? He's working out at Lockheed as a blowtorch. That's the worst yet. Stick around, Andy. Phil's gonna play a band number. They will go out and have something to eat. Well, I'd love to, but I gotta go now. My girl's waiting for me out in the car. What? Your girl's outside alone with all these soldiers around? You're liable to lose her. Oh, no, I won't, Buck. I got her chained to the front bumper. Good to see Andy again. God, I should have sold him a bucket of grunion. Play, Phil. Musical meaning what the boys think they are. And diapers meaning I'm gonna change him. Not bad, eh, Phil? That's a fine way to talk after I went and named my baby after you. What? Same the kid after me? Certainly. Alice J. Harris. Jay is for Jacqueline. Jay for Jacqueline. After me. Jay for what? You heard him. Jacqueline. Well, thanks, Phil. That's quite an honor. And now, folks. Oh, Camp Callan. Oh, Camp Callan. Near La Jolla. Wait a minute. Wait a minute, Mary. If you insist on reading a poem about Camp Callan, do it right. What's the title of it? Can't you hear me, Callan Caroline? Well, I guess that's silly enough. Go ahead. Oh, Camp Callan. Oh, Camp Callan. Near La Jolla by the sea. Where Jack Benny goes and swims and catches fish for you and me. That's right. That's plenty for all. I met a soldier here last eve who had chevrons on his sleeve. He kissed me, and I must confess, if he's not a bugler, I miss my guest.   What's that got to do with us? Go ahead. We went walking underneath the moon. I said to him, come on, let's boon. But he wouldn't even clench. You think I was an oozle-finch? Oozle-finch, what's that? A goofy-looking bird. It's the mascot of the Coast Artillery. Oh, oh, I see. Last verse. Good, good. Here's to the Coast Artillery. You defend us by the sea.  You set him. Mary, that's one of the finest poems you've ever written. Thanks, Bob.  My daughter can write a better poem than that. Well, your daughter's only five days old. Well, I don't care. She's very talented, and when she grows up, she's gonna be a musician. Well, she'll be the first one in your family. And I'm not kidding. Since when ain't I a musician? Since any time. That's since when? At a boy, Jacqueline. Then take your grunyan out for a drink of water, will you? Ladies and gentlemen, as I said before, next Sunday will be the last broadcast of the season. So for this occasion, we have arranged a special... I'll take it. Hello? Hello, Mr. Benny, this is Rochester. I found out that's pronounced La Jolla. It turned out to be a Spanish word. Don't I should have known that. You? Never mind that. What did you call me about? I'm having a little trouble packing your bag, boss. What do you mean trouble? After I got all them. What, you put those grunyan in my brand new alligator bag? But boss, how... Only if they're alive. This alligator happens to be a suitcase. Well, just the same every time I snap it shut. Just take those fish out of that bag. Okay. Then get in the Maxwell. Come right over here to Camp Callum. But Mr. Benny, that's about a 12-mile trip, is it not? Yes. And it's uphill, is it not? Yes. Now, when will you be here? Boss has a mechanical and a military secret.  Goodbye. Goodbye. Oh, say, boss. Now what? I took your bathing suit down to the serve and missed it like you told me to. You did? This time... Oh, my goodness. What did you do with the jabs? They're in the suitcase with the gruny. Nice going, Rochester. So long. So long. I'll be out and turn my bathing suit over to the government. I think I will. Play, Phil. Think of spring and you think of strawberries. Think of strawberries and quick as a wink, your thoughts turn to strawberries and jello, one of the grandest of all desserts. Just try jello's new recipe, Fresh Strawberry Supreme and see if you don't agree. It's gloriously good and so simple to make.  Chill until cold and syrupy. Then place in a bowl of cracked ice and whip with a rotary egg beater until fluffy. Next, fold in one half cup of heavy cream whip. Then arrange sweetened sliced strawberries and sherbet glasses and pile the whipped jello lightly on the berries. Chill and serve and you'll have one of the most delightful flavorful desserts you ever tasted. Rich, juicy red strawberries covered with a creamy topping of whipped strawberry jello. Order strawberry jello tomorrow and try this marvelous treat. And be sure when you buy to get genuine jello, because jello gives you the extra goodness of locked-in flavors. This is the last number of the 34th program in the current jello series and we will be with you again next Sunday night at the same time. Now I'd like to thank General Hardaway and Captain Westerfield and all the boys here at Camp Callan for a swell time and a thrilling visit. Hope we get a tune in next week, ladies and gentlemen, for our last broadcast of the season. I know I will. Good night, folks. Two facilities to our armed forces throughout the world. The presentation of this program from Camp Callan has been for the entertainment of the personnel facing here and is that constituted endorsement of our product by the War Department Art Personnel. Hey, have you tried those new jello puddings? They're made by the makers of jello and like jello, they're swell. Try jello butterscotch puddings. It's gloriously smooth. A rich, mellow pudding that simply tops for golden butterscotch flavor and so creamy and good. Jello puddings require no additional sugar to make. So tomorrow, when you order jello, order jello puddings too in all three flavors, chocolate, vanilla, and butterscotch. Jello puddings are just like grandmas, only more so. The program came to you from Camp Callan. This is the National Broadcasting Company.


Okay, I would like to announce my campaign, Megalike 21 and progressive discussions, James B. Madonna. My campaign against all, excuse me, this is an example, my campaign against all low-flow faucets and shower heads, and I would like to officially endorse a company called Cyroflex from Italy, made in Italy, not to be found in American stores because it is for people with low water pressure, they are high volume faucets and shower heads, I use them, they're fantastic. Here's an example of the very aggravating and annoying low flow public restroom faucets and I would like to also bash all shower heads made by American companies sold in American retail stores.  Okay, this is part one of this video. Okay, meanwhile I hear I hear in Southern California probably the fault of Governor Jerry Brown at least at least in San Diego that tenants that pay rent have to also pay $50 per month towards water.


What's up guys? Guess where is today? We are in Meru It's a black and white right here, courtesy of A. A. B. L. And we are here to have a good time. Have a band is going to be on stage tonight. We have Nasezu Murome. We have coffee, machete as well. And of course, DJ Piera, to have a good time. So make sure to stay tuned on S. B. M. Buzz because we're going to be giving you live updates on what's going down right here in Meru County.