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Two blue wings on the snow-white coral marked where the wanderings of Ulysses had ended, while at the corner of the little cove a dozen heedless Cassandras rioted amongst the rays of the umbrella-tree in curves and swoops of giddy flight. "Dire and parlous was the fight that was fought."
He saw that ancient elms were rapidly decaying, and when he reached the judge's garden he found that the syringa and the lilacs had vanished. The garden had faced the destroyer in the plough, and trim vegetables thrived where gaudy blossoms had once rioted. As he opened the gate he saw old Cæsar bending above the mint bed, and he went over to him.
He had made certain allowances for this, of course, but no one could have foreseen so great a percentage of inefficiency as later developed. In winter, the cold was intense and the snows were of prodigious depth, while outside the shelter of the Omar hills the winds howled and rioted over the frozen delta, chilling men and animals and paralyzing human effort.
Of course I do not mean that we are perfect we are still crude; or that we have not made mistakes we have rioted in error; or that other nations cannot teach us something we can learn greatly from them, and we will.
Against the dazzling blue of the sky the branches of the palms stood out in gleaming gold, throwing their light shade over the masses of crimson and white and yellow roses that rioted together beneath.
The "Post-car" suggests the horses of the sun, or the stage coach in De Quincey's extraordinary dream, when the opium had finally rioted in his brain, and transformed his stage-coach into a chariot carrying news of some everlasting victory.
He had never even realized until he saw her the last time how beautiful she was; the change in himself had opened his eyes to this; and her greater tenderness toward him in their talk of his departure, her dependence on his friendship, her coming loneliness, the sense of a tragedy in her life all these sweet half-mute appeals to sympathy and affection had rioted in his memory every moment since.
His old self seemed then restored. The buoyancy of boyhood was his as it had never been to me since we were young together. It matters not what a chance, this is a land where all men drift about, but I was in the city near him now, and the old relationship was resumed. We rioted in the past of the country, and we visited it together.
They knew that the Philadelphia Hospital and the University of Pennsylvania Hospital and the commercial museum buildings nearby that had been changed into hospitals could scarcely provide beds and nurses for wounded American soldiers. And yet, "What can we do?" said Mayor George H. Earle, Jr., to me. "New York City resisted, and you know what happened. Boston rioted, and she had her lesson. No!
He secretly longed to shock people with blasphemous or imprudent expressions; to outrage all honor by stealing his host's spoons when he dined out; his fancy rioted in whimsical evil of which, of course, he gave no outward sign. He had a scene with Alfred Irons, one morning, at his studio.
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