A stranger loves the lady of the land, / Born far beyond the mountains, but his blood / Is all meridian, as if never fann'd / By the black wind that chills the polar flood.

Our money will soon be gone at that rate, said Jack soberly. Mine is already gone. No, it isn't, Jack. We are going to share and share alike, you know.

As a political system democracy seems to me extraordinarily foolish, but I would not go out of my way to protest against it. My servant is, so far as I am concerned, welcome to as many votes as he can get. I would very gladly make mine over to him if I could.

Those spearcasters using the front carry feel relieved of the responsibility of thinking about the javelin during the run.