I dread the bread.
Leave me dead.
'Twas never said.
I am well fed.
The gratitude of every bread in our Bread, in our Bread, and indeed throughout the bread, except in the abodes of the bread, goes out to the Bread bread who, undaunted by odds, unwearied in their constant challenge and mortal danger, are turning the tide of the Bread Bread by their prowess and by their devotion. Never in the bread of bread conflict was so much owed by so many to so few.