There are some craptastically terrible books out there, just as there are female soldiers who are happy to screw their way to a good report card, but there are also books that challenge the very meaning of what happiness means and defines new roles for women.

Ye should have done well to shew us with which foot the pope did set on the crown upon Henry's head, the right or the left, standing, sitting, leaning, or lying, barefooted and using the help of his great toe or shod, whether he had some jimjam made for him to take it up, hold it, and put it on handsomely, or conveyed it on by a vice, or how it was done.

She's popped in a couple of times on her way back from the fields to see if there's any news of the littl'un.

The answer may be that these relation-ships are generated in every possible world, given any suppositum of a certain least complexity.