When a couple of students started turning up to class wearing Hitler’s brownshirts, she laughed at that, too. But not for long.
(Natalie Angier, ‘The mighty mathematician you’ve never heard of’, New York Times, 26 Mar. 2012)
Each morning, on the outskirts of Penrith, where the neighbour’s cows sag on the tilting fences staked into moss-green hills, Dr Anthony Seage would rise to squint into the endless predawn traffic, away from his still-sleeping wife and children, and drive to his practice north of Parramatta.
(Luke Carman, ‘The good doctor’, Southerly)
He was not much more than a baby when he first saw whales rolling between him and the islands: a very close island, a big family of whales breathing easily, spouts sparkling in the sunlight, great black bodies glossy in the blue and sunlit sea.
(Kim Scott, That Deadman Dance, prologue)