An editor will be on the lookout for throws of passion. Good chinaware flies through the air, not throw the air, with resounding passion. Or perhaps just sounding passion, as the chinaware only smashes once. The throws go out the window, the whole jealous suite of belongings, even the longings that used to be, loaded on the phone. Whereas throes, like much of the world’s longing belongings, is Middle English. Those twists of turmoil and tempest always come plural. An editor, deadline last July, is in such throes, being thorough, as to think his or hers singular, but isn’t thrown.