I can't even say it was the people who board and casually whack off the top of your head with their slung-over-the-shoulder carry-ons as they obliviously bebop down the aisle to locate their seats.

The sky was cloudless—the moon rolled across the surface like a lamb searching for its dam.

A compound bow is much better [than a crossbow] in every respect, expect maybe for exciting those mall ninjas who, when they are not watching The Walking Dead, hide in their mom's basement and fantasize about Lara Croft.

Comstockery is the world's standing joke at the expense of the United States.