While recently travelling Asia Minor, I reached Magnesia very hungry: having outstripped my attendants, I was alone, and went to a common shop, where I had three skewers of kebab, a much esteemed dish, and the best of the kind I ever tasted, a yufka somewhat resembling Yorkshire pudding, a large lump of ice in the jar of water, a dish of yaourt, a bunch of grapes, and afterwards a caimac (cream) ice.

The civil day begins at midnight, and reckons 12 hours ante meridiem, or before noon, and 12 hours post meridiem, or after noon.

“You know,” Collier said, “this is exactly the sort of fuzzy, addle-brained thinking that gives birth to conspiracy theories. […]

Delicious is your shelter to the soul, As to the hunted hart the sallying spring, Or stream full-flowing, that his swelling sides Laves, as he floats along the herbaged brink