We rode up to Linga, past rows of fine chhortens , left the last dormitories behind us, saw an old tree-trunk painted white and red, passed a small pool with crystal-clear spring water thinly frozen over, and heaps of mani stones with streamer poles, and then arrived at the small convent Samde-puk, built on the very point of a spur between two side valleys.
— from Trans-Himalaya: Discoveries and Adventurers in Tibet. Vol. 2 (of 2) by Sven Anders Hedin
Before the hurtling impact of that bolt of war, the palsied ranks of foot crumbled like rotten timber.
— from Love Among the Ruins by Warwick Deeping
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