There have been numerous reports of snatch squads detaining men on the street and drafting them into the army.

She is only coming to gloat over my bedraggled and flowerless borders and to sing the praises of her own detestably over-cultivated garden. I’m sick of being told that it’s the envy of the neighbourhood; it’s like everything else that belongs to her—her car, her dinner-parties, even her headaches, they are all superlative; no one else ever had anything like them.

I thought it was a very tomorrowish movie. Hitch had once again taken enormous strides with some of his backdrops.

What cares must then attend the toiling swain.