The army had a shooting range up there hidden in the chestnut forests, that was all; like a passing plane rucking the fabric of perfect silence, the shots brought all that shatters continuity in life, the violence of emotions, the trajectories of demands and contests of will.

[…] Amy smiled without bitterness, for she possessed a happy temper and hopeful spirit.

[…] their horses, their lances, and every thing appertaining to the joust, that they might be ready on the day […] the rich bardes, the pleasant trapgardes, the grand guards, […]

I'd weave through the throng — scanning for empties to return while flirting, sniffing out kids smoking grass and sharing smokes with Ivor and Carl on the door. With a name like Carl you can imagine a six-foot tall and wide bouncer, but Ivor...I couldn't but help to think of the name as belonging to a skinny Welshman getting sand kicked into his face. His name didn't do him justice — this guy was almost as big as Carl and probably faster with his fists.