ENOUGH

Enough respect had been accorded me, I daresay. I also might intone that I'd been given a truly ample amount of disrespect. Perhaps, a flipping of a very bright coin could reveal some of the precise aspects of comparison and of relationship.
"Enough idiocy!" we might severally reshout. I seem able to go on and on, and my drivel soon snivels. In a sort of meanwhile and meantime, don't we somehow sometimes at least inchoately detect the strong likelihood that the world, universe, and various other kinds of reaches may be facts that are overwhelming as well as underwhelming?
"Hip" talk now indeed still may permit a use of the verb "underwhelm." Uncertain about any such kind of matter, I would like, even so, to declare a kind of certainty. The various worlds extant are seeming to shout, "Hey!"
Enough transgressing always is both doable and quite finished and accomplished. Various new vacuities always must be entering an apparently proverbial set of pictures. Thus, plenty and plenitude can manage to be lean machines, of sorts. Iconized as "an eternal infernal furnace very full of lost approaches," I'm blurting along -- uh -- strongly.
"Enough is enough!" some bodies rather famedly have seemed to be re-insisting. Under and over now distant declivities, these quaint phrasings will probably rise to some bits of me. I tend to do no great or very great heeding; my worlds are breeders of somewhat special spatialities. Locked into prim proliferations, great style and not great style are, say, cracking a smile. I almost might guess I digress; I then might wish to sense I'm a very sensitive guy unlikely to shy away from useful epicenters. Do let me know if you glow.