[Magazine staffer about his political team:] Pencils at the ready, keen brains agleam behind intelligent horn rims, these experts spread out to ravel the loose ends of White-Housing, web-spinning spiders for [the presidential candidate].

[A]h, that was the woodcock - and the goatsucker - yes, yes! it sounds strange to him, that hasn't heard him[.]

and when he stooped to receive the accustomed reward, and claim the accustomed salute, his eyes were for the first time drawn to a momentary gaze at those of the beautiful umpress.

One might wish that Bruckner had stood up absolutely to these well-meaning, unscrupulous, and not impressively talented students of his, but that would mean entirely remodeling his personality — and thus, surely, his music. In any event, it is a matter now of spilt milk.