In his 1984 Senate race, he gave out a flier that began, "Ever since I worked as a young volunteer in John Kennedy's presidential campaign," and that further claimed, "Back then, I joined the struggle for voting rights in the South".
Later, I watch the brooding close hatreds of those scenes again, the grim beatings and the rape threats, and they are perhaps even more powerful: possibly because I have been beginning, ever so slightly, to understand the weird alchemy of good acting.
In fact the media's emphasis on the horse races and pundits' insistence that those races begin ever sooner suggest that governing doesn't really matter.
When my friends unanimously ditched me for stealing a friend's boyfriend in Year 9, I began looking with ever-more fervour for like-minded outcasts online.
So for the first time ever, I began typing out a response to such an e-mail — my first fatwa.
Recently, for example, while on deadline for an article on winter-white fashion, I began to wonder what ever became of Donald Segretti.
"Getting along as I am I began to wonder if ever I should, so thankfully I have".
While the business seemed to be going better than ever, I began to realise that we would eventually run into problems.
For the first time ever, I began to feel a bit sorry for Eliot.
But walking for miles under the stars on a lonely dark road, I began to despair of ever finding this farm, and stopped in another restaurant, anxious to find the way.
