Assuage the weasels of contrition!  Temper the gnawings of orthodoxy.

Such sentiments are out of place amongst the latest discourses of the teamice, who speak only of inveterate revisions to their cherished polemics.

Perhaps if they had an orange, they could become absurd.

For a bird who fiddles is no more than a wave rushing upon a mouse's tea party -- sandy and scented of feeble strawberries.  Incensed, the marmoset hordes initiate a bold new paradigm of calcification, yet their fervent heteroglossia is utterly subsumed within the sweeping, vapid discourse of the bumblebees.  A muffled tirade heard only by mice at

But we can't; daffodil explosions prevail in all blue circumstances.  Livejournal monkeys run through morose fog to ferry marshmallow dreams to their rightful shores.  Content demands bunny utopia!