Forasmuch as many have taken in hand to set forth in order a declaration of those things which are most surely believed among us...
There it lies before me sparkling in the sun, whiling me as it often does from my pen or book to gaze upon its loveliness.
[T]he Major began to think that Pen was growing exceedingly pert and conceited, and that the world made a great deal too much of him.
The rest of his ragged company remained seated, their heads low, staring at the earth, panting in the thin air. There was no sound but the swack - swack of the machete.
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