When I lifted my eyes from the page, there was none of the meretricious argument London always offers that the sole real purpose in life is to hustle for a buck.

He can cull choice young animals for the pot and create triumphs of cruel gastronomy, like the baby beef of the gauchos or the Wyoming cattleman's sonofabitch stew based on the organ meats and brains of an unweaned calf.

I focus on communal descriptive problems—what I call American race talk dilemmas—rather than on all the lightheartednesses and small triumphs of daily life at Columbus.

His and his uncle Johannes de Curte's principal gift to Monte Cassino was a xenodochium or hospitale to house the pilgrims who, in great numbers, visited the famous shrine of the Archangel Michael.