I bought some batteries, but they weren't included.
For your birthday I got you some batteries. They’re dead, just like you’ll soon be.
I wrote an edible cookbook. The pages are made out of tortillas. It’s also the Book of Love. (Batteries and hot sauce sold separately.)
It’s like your batteries get low, and you need to charge them on someone else’s story.
Earthly minds, like mud walls, resist the strongest batteries; and though, perhaps, somethimes the force of a clear argument may make some impression, yet they nevertheless stand firm, keep out the enemy, truth, that would captivate or disturbe them.