Then one of the swarthies popped a couple of shovels of coal into the small fo'c's'le stove — for it was cold that July night Down Under — and everyone began to talk.

Surely all men are vaine by nature, and are ignorant of God, and colde not knowe him that is, by the good things that are sene, nether consider by the workes the work-master. But thei thoght the fyre, or the winde or the swift aire, or the course of the starres, or the raging water, or the lights of heaven to be governours of the worlde, and gods.

At the bottom of the hill is the river and there in the water is the horse with the bloodless wound, dying and vomiting water, calling out, hey bitchface, your turn to suffer now...

Snipe hunting is like “52 Pickup.” You learn the game the first time you play it.