Another pen, apparently a kind of maternity suite, held nursing mothers; a 3-day-old, virtually humpless and the size of a golden retriever on very long legs, followed at a confident trot when its mother was led away by a buyer.

Climbing so close to an erupting volcano was tickling the dragon's tail.

But basically the classical musicians kept their eyes glued to their parts and played like merry hell, and the drummer kept his eyes glued on the conductor drummed like merry hell whenever he was cued—but there was no emotional unity […]

One big difference between me and my literary original; I haven't the faintest desire to boss around planetsful of people.