Everything seems so relative that it is scarcely possible to distinguish whether anything has a real value.

All feeling is so relative to circumstances, and what makes so stable as the cement of habit?

Beauty is so relative and so subjective and that's just a description of her but I can't play that description.

Paradise is so relative.

Fragmentary anecdotes have a value, but so relative that to attempt to construct the subject's character out of them is hazardous.

Or perhaps it was just that concepts like time and space were, after all, becoming so relative as to be barely worth worrying about.

The fire broke out during visiting time so relatives were also able to help sick people out of the building.

Thistles are members of the lettuce family and so relatives of salsify and sun-chokes, all of which share a similar flavor.

So why classify a quality always so relative that it is more an agency than substance; a quality that disappears when classified.