Last of all, against himself he turns his sword, but missing the mortal place, with his poniard finishes the work.

Sublime cafe fare (and gourmet takeaway) in a sunny, noisy setting crowded with suits, ladies who lunch and artsy Mass Ave types.

The Bush-era celebrates double-speak in all that it does—laws have lovely names denying the reality of what they’re doing, whatever’s said by a Bushite means the opposite and all political statements must be read to recognize how the Bushites are doing/planning/seeking exactly the opposite.

We're plastic but we'll still have fun!