For termers, or some clerklike serving-man, Who scarce can spell th' hard names

His skull snapped forward like he'd been donkey-punched. He'd been shot at point-blank range and expected to find the back of his head blown apart: bone fragments, spattered brains.

When she was little and I went to see her in bed, I often thought she wasn't there. She lay so neatly and so straight, without a ruckle and with her head just under the top of the bedclothes.

How prettie, how fine and how nettie, Good huswife should yettie.