And

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted—nevermore!

---Edgar Allan Poe, »The Raven«
(the eighteenth and final stanza)

And now that I have carried this history so far in my own character and introduced these personages to the reader, I shall for the convenience of the narrative detach myself from its further course, and leave those who have prominent and necessary parts in it to speak and act for themselves.

And suddenly there was only silence. She looked at him, not having anything to say while he hopelessly drowned in her.

'And what made you ask it of me? Suppose I should tell you wrong?'

And: the link
a door between worlds
the inclusive
state of being

One can't do much in the face of 'and' but sit and wait for the next thing.

A most pleasing conjunction.

and I like to connect lots and lots of words with the word and

tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow.

...and I see no way out. At least not now.

'And' is a many splendored conjunction, isn't it ?

No smoking in bed -
and no sleeping in ashtrays.

Alsways in the middle between two close friends, I felt like an and. Now look there in that hill, there's millions of them.