She heard hoofs and harness, wheels, the leathers bracing the springs, she saw faces through the windows, leaves, sky, a flag on the fly from a spire. Like the one aspread on the casket, she may have thought, and she could almost feel it, properly folded, weighing on her hands when the coffin was out of sight.

However, it has a history which, documented as scrupulously as possible from hearsay, gossip, clippings, hottings, a playscript courteously furnished by the Theater Guild and a stead number of items supplied by Mr. Leonard Lyons — an ubiquitist who frequently complains that he is always quoted though never mentioned — runs something like this : […]

Indeed, Leroi-Gourhan's objective, as I have said, was not to find hypothetical transitions between pithecomorphism and anthropomorphism but to spot an evolutive divergence towards a totally original way of being, that of man.

Methinks I hear the old boatman, paddling by the weedy wharf, with raucid voice, bawling Sculls, Sculls: …