[…] one was sodden to the bone and mildewed to the marrow and moved to pray […] for that which formerly he had cursed—the Dry! the good old Dry—when the grasses yellowed, browned, dried to tinder, burst into spontaneous flame— […]

Even without hovering drones, a lurking assassin, a thumping score and a denouement, the real-life story of Edward Snowden, a rogue spy on the run, could be straight out of the cinema. But, as with Hollywood, the subplots and exotic locations may distract from the real message: America’s discomfort and its foes’ glee.

There was the handsome carpet, new on the occasion of Mr. Gooch's marriage, but it was carefully covered with a drab drugget; the curtains were of a pretty pink damask, but they were enveloped in brown holland bags, by which same material the chairs and sofas were covered.

[…] 'Stead a pissin' everyone off writing tickets all day, they could make themselves usefully and thin out the donkey dicks that never have, and never will learn how to be responsible drivers."