All

All these things, and a thousand like them, came to pass in and close upon the dear old year one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five. Environed by them, while the Woodman and the Farmer worked unheeded, those two of the large jaws, and those other two of the plain and the fair faces, trod with stir enough, and carried their divine rights with a high hand. Thus did the year one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five conduct their Greatnesses, and myriads of small creatures--the creatures of this chronicle among the rest--along the roads that lay before them.

All I'm looking for right now is a place to be safe where I can think and get my life back.

Everything. Each and every last bit of whatever is his. I'm going to get John out of my life.

And then I'm going to wash him out of my hair.

The late 20th century seer, Mr. Kenny, glanced around the room at the seance participants as they sat, transfixed, waiting with baited breath for the next pronouncement to fall from his all-seeing, mouing (and maybe just a little too-too red) lips, then he picked up the next card and intoned heavily, »Yup. Toldja so. Impending doom for all.«

All is a quite functional word- it can include as well only two little flys as the population of the whole world.

All would never be revealed.

No matter what the Tellers told in the Foredays.

'All or nothing' – I suppose we ought to start thinking seriously about these grim alternatives. Everyone, that is, except Zen Buddhists in Japan, where the attainment of 'mu' or nothingness constitutes the highest human form of enlightenment. And we know what came of that among Zen's original samurai practitioners.....

We must veiw, with profound respect, the infinite capacity of the human mind to resist the introduction of useful knowledge.