'Cease ye herefrom: let her enter a mortal's couch and see her son fall in war, who shall be as Ares in the might of his hands, and as the lightning in the swiftness of his feet.

He was roused from his brief rest by a violent fit of coughing, which seemed to shake the whole system. It was one which in England is so simply, yet so emphatically, denominated a churchyard cough. It was hollow, like the echo of the grave.

Nervously, he wiped the gun of fingerprints real and imaginary with the stocking-covered fingers.

You see what we're up against here. Timecop, a low-rent Terminator, is the kind of movie that is best not thought about at all, for that way madness lies.