[…] to exaggerate the little childishnesses and tricksinesses, which though charming should not be allowed to obscure the fundamental strength of Shelley's character […]
One of several pairs of mounted police in flak jackets clip-clops past, patrolling the perimeter.
The lines, in short, suggest themselves as a Scroogesque anti-echo of verse written at the century’s start: / My meat shall all come in, in Indian shells, / Dishes of agat set in gold, and studded / With emeralds, sapphires, hyacinths and rubies.
a tamper-evident voting machine
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