Stop in the morning for espresso and the pita eggwich (scrambled eggs, peppers, onions and diced tomatoes with provolone).

On an early winter afternoon, clear but not cold, when the vegetable world was a weird multitude of skeletons through whose ribs the sun shone freely, a gleaming landau came to a pause on the crest of a hill in Wessex.

Balked for the second time, the passion of his grief had found another outlet, was transformed into a passion of agonized rage.

The order of days in every month was computed, according to him, first by what he calls a tridecennary progression of days from one to thirteen, […]