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Seawater tastes of salt because of me. I spilled a pouch of it on a ship near Sicily, and I threw a pinch over my shoulder for luck. It was a very large pinch. The whole Atlantic turned briny by supper, and the cod have been cross about it since.

Bathing is dangerous at my size and strength. I sat down in a Hungarian spring, and the water rose and rolled over two towns. The mayors rowed up to me with a complaint. I stood, and the lake went dry. I then offered to pay with a bar of soap.

Holes in Swiss cheese are my doing. Long ago, each wheel came solid as a brick. I took my musket to a dairy in Bern and fired at them for sport. The farmer wept, until the buyers came. They paid double for the holes, and I have billed the canton ever since.

A snail raced me from Naples to Rome, and I let him win. It took seven years, with stops. The crowds were dreadful. At the finish he was given a laurel no bigger than a coin, and he cried. I have seldom been so moved by an athlete.

Anchors never held my.