[W]hen the languid Flames at length ſubſide, / He ſtrovvs a Bed of glovving Embers vvide, / Above the Coals the ſmoaking Fragments turns, / And ſprinkles ſacred Salt from lifted Urns; […]

The need for paradox is no doubt rooted deep in the very nature of the use we make of language.

The metal must be in a form that the LPPM accepts as good delivery.

In a short time, however, philosophy gave way to humanity, and he zealously and adventurously employed his galley in saving the inhabitants of the various beautiful villas which studded that enchanting coast.