Brightned the black horizon of his parish ; Gave to the Prince of Darkness such hard blows, That Satan was afraid to show his nose, (Except in hell), before this priest so warrish!

Mezentius […] with his ardour warmed / His fainting friends, reproached their shameful flight, / Repelled the victors.

He'd have to stow the Gun somewhere; no place to conceal it in the skintight bodysuit.

The mother, Ekaterina Pavlovna, who at one time had been handsome, but now, asthmatic, depressed, vague, and over-feeble for her years, tried to entertain me with conversation about painting. Having heard from her daughter that I might come to Shelkovka, she had hurriedly recalled two or three of my landscapes which she had seen in exhibitions in Moscow, and now asked what I meant to express by them.