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The nearest approach to them in human craftsmanship, and as regards Auffassung, are perhaps some little Japanese wood-carvings whose creators, labouring consciously, likewise overstepped the boundaries of the grotesque and indulged in nightmarish effects of line similar to those which the old Peruvians, all unconsciously, have achieved upon the bodies of their dear friends and relatives....
And he'd come over every now and then and interrupt himself and her with some sort of unexpected caress a kiss on the back of her neck, or an embrace that would threaten her coiffure and this vague, scary, nightmarish sort of feeling, which for no reasonable reason at all seemed to be clutching at her, would be forgotten.
Look w'ot whiskey done!" Leonard had no idea that anything could be added to the nightmarish quality of the adventure, but there off the starboard arose a great bulk, blotting out the stars. It was not a ship; it was not a barge; there was not a light on it, but it seemed somehow dimly illuminated. It was as shapeless as death. "The Flyin' Dutchman!" shuddered Galton.
Used as Sally was to meeting every emergency with cool shrewdness, she could not bring to her present situation the necessary philosophy, because she was ill, and fear-stricken, and made crazy by the impossibility of finding a solution to her anxieties. Hour after hour was spent with horrible nightmarish imaginings, in frenzied self-excuses and improvised expedients.
Dressed in another man’s clothes he felt himself disgraced, even in the eyes of the peasants, and of Trifon Borissovitch, whose face appeared, for some reason, in the doorway, and vanished immediately. “He’s come to look at me dressed up,” thought Mitya. He sat down on the same chair as before. He had an absurd nightmarish feeling, as though he were out of his mind. “Well, what now?
His dreams that night were of a reluctant, nightmarish passage down a huge groove, a monotonous groove, whose smooth, insurmountable sides offered no hint of variety.... As he looked ahead he could see nothing but this straight groove stretching into infinity.
Jared stared at her as if she were part of a nightmarish dream. "Where are you going?" he asked hoarsely, a new fear gripping him. "It doesn't matter to you, father. I'm just going." Jared experienced a shock as he realized how far this girl had already gone from him. "Good-bye," she faltered; "good-bye, father." She turned from him and walked to the door.
"You know," said Arlee, locking and unlocking her fingers, "you know, some people wouldn't take it all for granted the way you do.... And it was very horrid." "It's over," said he crisply, "except I'd like to pound him to a jelly." "I couldn't bear to speak of him before," said the girl, "but now it seems all far away and nightmarish.... And I'd like to tell you how it was a little."
It was she who served him the food, of which he was glad; though with those big slanting black eyes examining him at close range, as if he had something curious written on his face, she gave him an uncomfortable sensation. But anything was better than being approached by these blear-eyed nightmarish witches.
It seemed to him more than probable that the only person in this street conscious of poverty, and suffering under it, was himself. From nightmarish dozing, he started with a vivid thought, a recollection which seemed to pierce his brain. To whom did he owe his fall from comfort and self-respect, and all his long miseries? To Mrs. Weare's father.
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