Granted, but now there are no pain receptors connected to your brain so you never feel pain and don't realise that there's a knife sticking out of your shoulder.
I wish I knew where my fishy necklaces were.
please grant me my small wish; (love me to the marrow of my bones)
In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of
worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to
eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort. — JRR Tolkien
