However, the hosts hit back and hit back hard, first replacement hooker Andrew Hore sliding over, then Williams careering out of his own half and leaving several defenders for dead before flipping the ball to Nonu to finish off a scintillating move.

In some cases the conquering state contented itself with imposing a tribute on the vanquished: who, being, in consideration of that burthen, freed from the expense and trouble of their own military and naval protection, might enjoy under it a considerable share of economical prosperity, […]

There was a faded picture on the mantel at home of Uncle Pete, age four, holding the hand of Aunt Bareeba, a fat three-year-old with frizzy dark hair and a scowlly expression.

[W]e can shoot down missiles. . . . Our Kingfisher sonars can detect mines. . . . Our ships are hardened against chemical and biological weapons. But how do you stop a torpedo? . . . The best engineers in the business agree that nearly every class of torpedo currently being deployed has the capacity to sink one of our ships with a single shot. . . . [W]e are the poor bastards that brought a knife to a gunfight.