[…] robins, hitch sparrows, whitethroats, chickadees, all kinds of them singing their hearts out. They would keep at that until the sun came up and then slack off. And then again at duckish, if it was a civil evening, you'd hear them […]

I’ve only had a few lessons, but I can muddle through the test.

Sometimes by way of joke, and sometimes by way of irritation, compositors are called Asses by the pressmen.

In relative space, everyone who wants to participate in the Ecumenopolitan system will have access to do so through the communications and transportation systems we shall have at our command.