For the Cyclopes always make his thunderbolts, and make them well.
With the noise of a thousand thunderbolts the massed rays struck.
One by one the Thunderbolts slipped into the raw morning darkness.
The formation of Thunderbolts broke up and the fight was on.
They knew just how far the Thunderbolts would be able to penetrate.
The Me's hung on, waiting for the Thunderbolts to turn back.
Tell them that I hold the thunderbolts of their ancient gods in my hands.
They were not iron as he was iron, nor yet thunderbolts of war.
I remember that they reminded me of the story of the heathen god Jove and his thunderbolts.
Then they came, the pair of them—came like thunderbolts, and from different angles.