..What our contempt often hurls from us,We wish it our again; the present pleasure,By revolution lowering,does becomeThe opposite of itself..

If I had a single wish, I would wish sixty seconds of total depravity upon myself. For one of the greatest gifts of all is to have __othing_ so that I can finally learn how to appreciate __verything_.

Before she cut her birthday cake, she cast a wish, then blew the candles out from his eyes.

The desperate piercing scream of horror echoed far above the sharpened tops of the trees wrapped in thin obsidian-transparent mist, and I startled jerkily, tripping again, and almost collapsed onto the cold moist ground.

Use your little grey cells mon ami" (Hercule Poirot in 'The Mysterious Affair At Styles')

That single thought is enough. The impulse increases to a wish, the wish to a desire, the desire to an uncontrollable longing, and the longing (to the deep regret and mortification of the speaker, and in defiance of all consequences,) is indulged.