maneuvering the vile and contemptuous brow, the condescending bigotry, fleeting verticals sapphire spindles marrying the midnight pirouette, interwoven potentialities all sublime all subordinate to the awkward trepidation handcuffed and bound like magnetic iron:indeed, averting the eyes is impossible.

Mr. Ritter is on the transistor speaking of her again:
"i got a girl in the war, her eyes are like champagne, sparkle bubble over and in the morning all you got is rain..."