“Did you have any female mentors?” she asks. / “Female what?” / “Like, teachers, or other woman painters you admired.” / “Shouldn’t that be mentresses?” I say nastily. “There weren’t any. My teacher was a man.”

Thus, in rapid succession, passed the thoughts of Rosilia, who, endeavouring to assume placidity, once more essayed to express her thanks to Mrs. Melbourne for her kind attentions,[…]

In other words, the euthanasiacs, in pushing for voluntary euthanasia, are merely biding their time, waiting until democracies which once prized freedom can be sold the idea that benefiting humanity by ridding it of retrograde ...

Not that Briggs was capable of bringing it on. He got in, maybe, one really good shot: a right to Foreman's ample belly