“Go to the devil!” they bark at me. “Get out!” And when I walk away they shout “Mongrel!” and “Gutterdog!” and sometimes, after my back is turned, they rush me.

We grew silly, tongue-tied, said foolish things we did not mean to say, shoved one another about in the boat, and finally overturned it. The loreleis laughed musical little laughs.

Her wrizled skin, as rough as maple rind, So scabby was, that would have loath'd all womankind.

For brethren to debate and rip up their falling out in the ear of a common enemy […] is neither wise nor comely.