He hit him big and the guy just crumpled.

There was a torrential downpour and we were all soaked.

If a newsman had asked me to comment on Spiro T. Agnew, even a few weeks before the 1968 Republican convention, I would have “toe-danced”—which in press secretary terminology means dodging the question.

[I]n the tumultuous rootings of a potato field, in which hogs had long foraged and steam-shoveled, there were woodcock, squatting sedately and boring assiduously in the soft brown loam.