Sometimes she passed down avenues of sedate mansions, soberly numbered ‘one’, ‘two’, ‘three’, and so on right up to two or three hundred, each the copy of the other, with two pillars and six steps and a pair of curtains neatly drawn […]

To Morris, this rejection and all that followed — the hyperviolence of the second Palestinian uprising, the rise of Hamas — confirm that there is nothing Israel could do to make Arab Muslims agree to its existence as a Jewish state.

And she objects, too, to the altogether. Her gowns will never be cut more décolleté than those seen in the boxes of the Metropolitan Opera House of New York city.

Beyond Cape Palmas, the coast line is a beach of bright white sand, from which the slave barracoons have now disappeared […].