Mr. Betancourt is the sluice gate for communism in Venezuela.

The heralds in their tabards were marvellous to behold, and a nod from Rouge Croix gave me the keenest gratification.

I like to keep myself well within the field of the microscope, and, with as much detachment as I can muster, to watch myself live, to report my observations of what I say, feel, think. In default of others, I am myself my own spectator and self-appreciator―critical, discerning, vigilant, fond!

… then appeared to me along the way by which I formerly came amid the darkness, as it were the brightness of a shining star, and the light was waxing more and more, and quickly hastening to me, and as soon as it came nigh me, then were scattered and away fled all the witherward ghosts, which formerly threatened me with their tongs, …