It ain't the meat it's the motion/That makes your daddy want to rock/It ain't the meat it's the motion/It's the movement it ain't the stock.
Redwood's coaches are living and dying on every play; the players are into it but they're tensely composed, ready to ask how high when a coach says jump.
Pallas to their eyes / The mist objected, and condens'd the skies.
Cecil Rhodes […] was never tired of impressing upon one that the fact of being an Englishman was “the greatest prize in the lottery of life,” and that it was that thought which always sustained him when he was troubled.
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