With one accord the tribe swung rapidly toward the frightened cries, and there found Terkoz holding an old female by the hair and beating her unmercifully with his great hands.

One swallow does not a summer make, nor one onion a spring garden.

[…] they are unconscious of all the history and human experience by which the liturgy has been enriched, and unmoved by the glibly repeated words of the Gospel […]

We saw a moose at the edge of the woods.