It is ice-cream for Carlo clear down to the bottom of the can, but afterward it is blinded eyes and sore neck and great fright.

It is only eighteen inches to go into the freezer; it is three miles out.

For Robert Burns it is rich wine and clapping hands and carnival all the way going to Edinburgh; but going back, it is worn-out body, and lost estate, and stinging conscience, and broken heart, and a drunkard's grave.
Better moderate our desires.

Carlo had that morning as good a breakfast as any dog need to have.

It was a law of the household that he should be well fed.