I am Azitawadda, the blessed of Baʻl, the servant of Baʻl, whom Awrikku made powerful, king of the Danunites.

Star reporter, leg-man, cub, veteran gray in the trade—one and all they tried to pin the Bat like a caught butterfly to the front page of their respective journals—soon or late each gave up, beaten. He was news—[…]—the brief, staccato recital of his career in the morgues of the great dailies grew longer and more incredible each day.

Its very downwardnesses are themselves conditions of its succeeding upwardnesses, its silences and evasions of its communications and confessions.

The words Whig and Tory have been pressed to the service of many successions of parties, with very different ideas fastened to them.