One swallow does not a summer make, nor one onion a spring garden.

We saw a moose at the edge of the woods.

[…] they are unconscious of all the history and human experience by which the liturgy has been enriched, and unmoved by the glibly repeated words of the Gospel […]

With one accord the tribe swung rapidly toward the frightened cries, and there found Terkoz holding an old female by the hair and beating her unmercifully with his great hands.