No one ever pretended that shopping for anything is a rational experience. If it were, would there be Fluffernutter? Laceless sneakers? Porkpie hats? Would the Chia Pet even exist?

When 'Mean Girls' came out, I was 15. So I saw that movie and was like, 'That is so funny.' But it still has that fluffy, happy ending, and that doesn't happen in high school.

Every two months, I allow myself a splurge day where I eat thick, doughy pizza from Pizzeria Uno or an ice cream sundae from my store with birthday-cake ice cream, Marshmallow Fluff, and toppings mixed in.

Honestly, the most excited I've ever been for Christmas is when I get a big fluffy blanket.

"Children see God every day; they just don't call it that. It's the summer sky painted with cumulus clouds by day and sequined with a million stars by night. It's the sweet whispers of sweet gum trees and the sounds riding the tops of honeysuckle-scented breezes. Children feel God stuffed into brown fluffy dogs with stitches strong enough to withstand a good squeeze, and on the lips of round women who can't get enough sugar from Chocolate.

Blinding, mineral, shattering silence. You hear nothing but the quiet crunch of stones underfoot. An implacable, definitive silence, like a transparent death. Sky of a perfectly detached blue. You advance with eyes down, reassuring yourself sometimes with a silent mumbling. Cloudless sky, limestone slabs filled with presence: silence nothing can sidestep. Silence fulfilled, vibrant immobility, tensed like a bow. There's the silence of early morning. For long routes in autumn you have to start very early. Outside everything is violet, the dim light slanting through red and gold leaves. It is an expectant silence. You walk softly among huge dark trees, still swathed in traces of blue night. You are almost afraid of awakening. Everything whispering quietly. There's the silence of walks through the snow, muffled footsteps under a white sky. All around you nothing moves. Things and even time itself are iced up, frozen solid in silent immobility. Everything is stopped, unified, thickly padded. A watching silence, white, fluffy, suspended as if in parentheses.

"People who entered the Courtyard without an invitation were just plain crazy! Wolves were big and scary and so fluffy, how could anyone resist hugging one just to feel all that fur?

I think the very word stalking implies that you're not supposed to like it. Otherwise, it would be called 'fluffy harmless observation time'.

I notice that you use plain, simple language, short words and brief sentences. That is the way to write English?it is the modern way and the best way. Stick to it; don't let fluff and flowers and verbosity creep in. When you catch an adjective, kill it. No, I don't mean utterly, but kill most of them?then the rest will be valuable. They weaken when they are close together. They give strength when they are wide apart. An adjective habit, or a wordy, diffuse, flowery habit, once fastened upon a person, is as hard to get rid of as any other vice.

No brain at all, some of them [people], only grey fluff that's blown into their heads by mistake, and they don't Think.

Watching the evening news in 2011 is a strange time-travel experience. 'The CBS Evening News ' 'ABC World News' and 'NBC Nightly News' haven't changed their style over the decades still going for that old-fashioned mix of voice-of-authority pomp and feel-good fluff. The difference is that people aren't watching.

No one ever pretended that shopping for anything is a rational experience. If it were would there be Fluffernutter? Laceless sneakers? Porkpie hats? Would the Chia Pet even exist?