Sir W.H.,... expected me to be both omnivorous and omnibibulous; when we rose from his high table and left the room I felt sheathed in an alcoholic mist. --William Manchester, The Last Lion, Visions of Glory, page 886.
In every temple of every god processions were held and offerings made by those who had anything left to offer, while the statues of the gods were dressed in fine new garments and hung about with garlandings of flowers.
I only got a glimpse of the car, so I can tell you the colour but not the registration number.
But not more blythe than sylvan court, Than we have been at humbler sport; Though small our pomp, and mean our game, Our mirth, dear Marriot, was the same.
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