It was at the unveiling of Sir John Gray's statue. Edmund Dwyer Gray was speaking, blathering away, and here was this old fellow, crabbed-looking old chap, looking at him from under his bushy eyebrows.

She smooths her skirt, looking as composed and ladylike as possible.

To such, and for the same reason, the Pythonic oracles at Delphi, at Dodona, and at the temple of Ammon in Lybia, were means of good.

Sonofabitch must be a RepubliKlan . . . running off at the mouth, taking what doesn't belong to him, ignoring all other points of view.