[W]hen the bare boughs of a tree intervened between her and the rising bright but deep red sun, frosted as the twigs were, on them sat a merry flock of sparrows, the feathers on their breasts bluffed out, as if they had donned warm winter spencers to shield them from the biting blast.

If Obama tried to do the right thing he'd be JFKed. If Obama tried to live up to his promises, if he opposed the neocons and military-industrial complex ...

We don't know, so let's scope the action before having another shoot out.

The word, Tu mihi criminis author (alluding to his Princes commaund) thou art the occasion of my imputed cowardise.