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On the burnt plot of ground some broken glass had been emitting a reddish gleam, shoots of ergot had been diffusing their gloss, children shouting at play, dogs trotting backwards and forwards, and all things, seemingly, faring well, sunken in the stillness of the portion of the town adjoining the rolling, vacant steppe, with, above them, only the sky's level, dull-blue canopy, and around them, only the cemetery, like an island amidst a sea.
Let him put his head from the window, he will see the long line of telegraph poles reaching from the sky's rim behind him to the sky's rim in front, and huddling together, as it seems, with less and less space between them the farther they are away. Twelve hours will enclose the beginning and the end of his journey, unless the engine break down or the rail be blocked.
Is it this sky's vast vault or ocean's sound, That is Life's self and draws my life from me, And by instinct ineffable decree Holds my breath Quailing on the bitter bound? Nay, is it Life or Death, thus thunder-crown'd, That 'mid the tide of all emergency Now notes my separate wave, and to what sea Its difficult eddies labor in the ground?
It was the fourth time that Felicia, at the piano, had begun the old song. Kenelm uncurled his long legs, and sat up straight on the window-seat. "Why on earth so everlasting gloomy, Phil?" he said. "Isn't the rain bad enough, without that dirge?" "The sky's 'be-weeping' him, just the way it says," said Felicia.
Above them the loons laughed, and herons called, and in the dense forest ashore foxes barked and owls hooted. A beautiful bow of light arched itself in the north, its long, silvery fingers stretching and darting up to the sky's zenith. But the Indian paddled on. Those wild sounds and scenes were his birthright, and he knew no fear of them.
Nocturne II is the picture which Professor Ruskin declared to be equivalent to flinging a pot of paint in the face of the public. But that black night, filling the garden even to the sky's obliteration, is not black paint but darkness. The whirl of the St.
He had had a dim hope that he would look like Ali Baba and wear a turban. After Mr. Dickson had finished saying all he had come to say, and had gone to catch his train, Jean started out to call on her minister. Pamela met her at the gate. "Well, Jean, and whither away? You look very grave. Are you going to tell the King the sky's falling?" "Something of that kind. I'm going to see Mr. Macdonald.
Should the sky's promise prove false, they would descend back to the hut. Snow was their one serious peril.
'Ah too trustful in sky's and sea's serenity, thou shalt lie, O Palinurus, naked on an alien sand! So speaks he weeping, and gives his fleet the rein, and at last glides in to Euboïc Cumae's coast. They turn the prows seaward; the ships grounded fast on their anchors' teeth, and the curving ships line the beach.
I can't bear to see a little filly like you runnin' with the odds dead agin her." "You been swell to me, Jimmie." "The sky's my limit, Doll." "Maybe it wasn't right for me to go with you last Tuesday night, him layin' there, and the kid and all, but a girl's gotta have something, don't she, Jimmie? A girl that's got on her shoulders what I got has gotta have something a laugh now and then!"
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