There were no words, and no movements but the tearing of teeth and claws.

For a small island [Great Britain], the place is remarkably diverse.

I've come across a novel called The Palm-Wine Drinkard, by the Nigerian writer Amos Tutuola, that is really remarkable because it is a kind of fantasy of West African mythology all told in West African English which, of course, is not the same as standard English.

Couldn't a fire outrun a galloping horse?

Percival was mouse-coloured and had not been very attractive even to his mother.

How can you expect to be rescued if you don’t put first things first and act proper?

The mask was a thing on it's own, behind which Jack hid, liberated from shame and self-conciousness.