There is no glorious triumph in mistaking the Messiah for a gardener.
Though her hair was pink, there was no mistaking the delicate facial features, porcelain skin and large eyes of the woman who tormented him his entire life then dumped the underworld on him.
There was no mistaking the description.
But there is no mistaking the drive of the swelling tide.
There is no Loch Ness Monster whatsoever, and people are either mistaking other things in the water as a monster or are making the stories up.
