Worse, it confirms what one always suspected about the 1930s literary mafia, with their graceless posing and relentless self-obsession — what terrible , terrible bores they were.
The victims’ feeling of incredulity at what they were seeing, swiftly turning to paralysing fear as the van bore down on them, swerving and weaving to hit as many people as possible, can barely be imagined.
The way the orchestra performed tonight was an insult to my ears.
Since there are potentially many different ways to carry out this analytic continuation process, there are questions of ambiguity and redundancy.
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