“Then there are the other days, when nothing is enough. The poem grins. It grins because it knows it is a terrible poem. It grins in embarrassment. It grins in pity. It grins in superiority. I may be a terrible poem, it grins, but at least I have one comfort. At least I'm not a terrible *poet*. At least I'm not the guy who sat in front of a typewriter for two hours coming up with the likes of *me*.”

“I,” I’ll type. And that will be enough.Then there are the other days, when nothing is enough. The poem grins. It grins because it knows it is a terrible poem. It grins in embarrassment. It grins in pity. It grins in superiority. I may be a terrible poem, it grins, but at least I have one comfort. At least I’m not a terrible poet. At least I’m not the guy who sat in front of a typewriter for two hours coming up with the likes of me.”

“Tack grinned."You know," I started, "it's annoying when you grin all know-it-all.""This isn't my know-it-all grin, Red. This is my I'm gonna get me some later grin."I felt a couple of quivers that were on the high end of pleasant scale.Still, I shared. "That's even more annoying.""Don't know why since me gettin' some means you're gonna get some.”

“Suddenly, gentlemen of the jury, I felt a Dostoevskian grin dawning (through the very grimace that twisted my lips) like a distant and terrible sun.”

“I can't help it, Kate. And I'm laughing at me. I feel like one of those sappy men who run around with a big grin on his face all the time. I feel like grinning all the time around you, and it's so idiotic.”

“I've got a secret for you," she whispered with n unpleasant grin on her face, "Something terrible is going to happen. Something terrible... and something wonderful.”