Toward Mid-day he [the Sun] brighteth the Air into a chearful Saphir, and guildeth the Borders of the very Clouds with a coſtly limbus.

George Brent has got one hell of a schlong on him, Tabitha ventures. And how! Lucy agrees enthusiastically. I'd haul his ashes for him any time.

Would you like some Waldorf salad?

Despite backsliding in various parts of the globe, there's a very clear trend towards the decentralisation of governments.