A very neat old woman, still in her good outdoor coat and best beehive hat, was sitting at a polished mahogany table on whose surface there were several scored scratches so deep that a triangular piece of the veneer had come cleanly away,[…].

There's nothing so humbling as being a dunce in a foreign tongue, and if it weren't for her compassion, we'd have lost heart after two weeks.

In fact, I think I'm a pity guest myself, just there because I was part of what Nola Morgan Design considered their team.

In only his second interview as a somewhat reluctant pop star in the late 70s, a man from the Mirror in a reassuringly dirty mac nudgingly begs: “Tell us about the girls.”