Like the lady said, she could have gotten in the truck and driven away. Left us here, stuck like Chuck, out here on this ledge.

[…] theyr entente was to set forthe the iustice of God, whych is to rewarde the spirituall […] wyth the blessynges promised, & the fleshlynges (the reprobate) with the plages thretned […]

It was customary to beautify the Prow with Gold, and various ſorts of Paint and Colours: […] Several other Colours were alſo made uſe of, nor were they barely varniſh'd over with them, but very often anneal'd by Wax melted in the Fire, ſo as neither the Sun, Winds, or Water were able to deface them.

“Who’s Mike Dunham?” / “Me,” he said calmly. “You see, I’m a painter—or will be one of these days. Probably after I’m dead. But I can’t wait till then to enjoy it. So I figure a little prehumous appreciation of the fact is in order.”