Style comes, if at all, like the bloom upon fruit, or the glow of health upon the cheek
Subtle as jealousy
Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose, flushing his brow
Sudden sprays of rain, like volleys of sharp arrows, rattled gustily against the windows
Suddenly, like death, the truth flashed on them
Sunbeams flashing on the face of things like sudden smilings of divine delight
Sunday mornings which seem to put on, like a Sabbath garment, an atmosphere of divine quietude
Supple and sweet as a rose in bloom
Sway like blown moths against the rosewhite flame
Sweet as a summer night without a breath