Dear Journal,
On behalf of her exceeding excellences, and fantastic fairnesses, I do hearby extoll the bounteous beauties of my wickedly wadical wife. If she were a volcano, she would explode with hotness, burning all the village people. If she were a typhoon, she would be stronger than a thousand Donny Osmonds. If she were a rolling tire, she would roll off the ends of the earth and still I would chase her… for love. Ah, fair Teresa. Why art thou yet so fair? May the gods slay every young man who looketh upon thee. I shall forever praise thy womanly wiles and avenge the flea that layeth a finger on thee.
And thus with a kiss, I die.