[I]n this mythic America, we fly along in the fast lane, placing bets against flashing lights in the rearview mirror, against the dreaded sidle into the gravel and the voice at the window demanding our license.
He slicked his hair back with mousse, but the cowlick still stuck up.
Two of the A-4s landed on the money. The third was not so lucky.
Christ now to Thee I crye of mercy and of grace and graunt of Thy goodnes to every maner reder ful understandyng in this leude pamflet to have, and let no man wene other cause in this werke that is verily the soth. Christ, now to Thee I cry of mercy and of grace, and grant of Thy goodness to every manner [of?] reader full understanding in this lewed [unlearned] pamphlet to have, and let no man suppose other cause in this work that is verily the sooth [truth].]
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