There is no-one here to watch Nie Mingjue, save for their ancestors, save for him.

Nectar and milk flow freely, and the wedding dances are wild.

None of this makes any sense, really. Jim's barely laid a hand on her, if he doesn't count the occasional hand-up over difficult terrain, or accidental (mostly accidental) groping when an explosion throws his bridge crew around, and Jim doesn't count that, because if he counted that he'd be at third base with Keenser by now.

Carefully taking a pillow and placing it in his lap, Ted mumbles, “Think I outta be getting home, sleep this off.”

“Can’t do that either,” Higgins says, grimacing sympathetically. “You’ll have to, ah, burn it out.”

(In which Ted gets dosed with sex pollen, and Trent and Rebecca work together to help him through it.)

What's the best way to catch some radical socialist maple syrup thieves? Go undercover as a couple with a twee Brooklyn store, of course.

Over the years and across the provinces, they have explored together every li of what there is to offer in this between them.

Of all the prisons in which she's spent time, Lotus Pier may be the kindest.

What is love, listeners? What is it about the nature of love that makes the threat of harm so integral to its existence? If we were to pry open the human heart from its delicate cage and carefully carve into it with a scalpel, we would find no evidence of love.

The captain takes Mr. Hickey for his darling, with dire consequences.

He knows Napoleon is watching Gaby, just as he knows Gaby's looking right back. What he doesn't realize is that they're both looking at him.