[…]But he was always a bridesmaid, never a bride. He 'assisted.' He wrote pamphlets. He even ghosted biographies for some of the biggies. But he never really got his career off the rocks until Sally died. So he wrote romances for the money.

But now the Æthiopians diverted the flood, making cataracts, which they propt with timber, lining them alſo with mud and ſtraw, which the multitude of hands eaſily brought together.

Meanwhile street congestion grows worse and the vicious circle tightens of private motor-cars which impede L.T.E. buses in Central London and of exasperated bus travellers who therefore take to using their own cars.

[…] True indeed it is That They whom Death has hidden from our sight Are worthiest of the Mind’s regard; with these The future cannot contradict the past: