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Updated: May 13, 2025
"A dose of prussic acid first," Lionel murmured, to himself. "Prussic acid! Bosh!" said Maurice. "What is the use of talking rubbish! Well, I'm not going to let you talk at all. I'm going to read you the news out of the evening papers until you go to sleep." When Dr.
But his immense faith, at bottom, in people and in things stood him in good stead against any dangerous inference. And he protested, mildly, at her exaggeration. Bosh! People in the Cabañal made him sick! They were always talking about somebody, to pass the time. If you listened to what people said, there wasn't a decent woman in town, nor a husband that wasn't the joke of the beach.
The room literally groaned with the stuff, and from the mass one object stood out boldly and significantly: It was a suit of Japanese armor! Jane yelled in delight at the discovery and pointed it out to Dozia. "Don't touch it!" whispered Dozia. "It may be inhabited!" "Bosh!" roared Jane, laying hold of a dangling armlet. As she did so the chains rattled!
Edwin answered humbly. "Only in a translation." Yet there was a certain falseness in his humility, for he was proud of having read the work. What sort of a duffer would he have appeared had he been obliged to reply `No'? "You ought to read French in French," said Tom, kindly authoritative. "Can't," said Edwin. "Bosh!" Charlie cried. "You were always spiffing in French.
"If I live long enough, I'll turn you, my mad wife, into my Romany queen and the blessing of my 'tan'." "Don't mistake what I mean," she urged. "I shall never be ruler of the Romanys. I shall never hear " "You'll hear the bosh played-fiddle, they call it in these heathen places at your second wedding with Jethro Fawe," he rejoined insolently, lighting his cigarette.
"Had a knock on his head when he was a kid, I should think." "No, I don't think it's that," replied the Honourable James Barker. "I've sometimes fancied he was a sort of artist, Lambert." "Bosh!" cried Mr. Lambert, briefly.
Knight could think of no answer to these arguments, but Sir John having recovered his breath, attacked again: "Look here, young fellow, I have no time to listen to jaw about the Bible and moral and immoral and all that bosh, which you can have out with your reverend parent afterwards. I am a plain man, I am, and want a plain answer to a plain question.
They are inwardly as incoherent as they are outwardly wayward and fitful. If they express anything, it is pure "bosh," pure discontinuity, accident, and disturbance, with no law apparent but to interrupt, and no purpose but to baffle. They seem like stray vestiges of that primordial irrationality, from which all our rationalities have been evolved.
Are you responsible to him for your marriage? I don't know which is the most absurd, the boy's behavior, or your worrying about it." "But, Auntie," stammered the girl, "he is so ill he might die!" "Die, bosh!" exclaimed Mrs. Roberts; "he frightened Elizabeth by his ravings; it is the most absurd nonsense, he a penniless school-teacher, and the Lord only knows what besides!
Nevertheless, I very much prefer the sentimentalized animal story to the sentimentalized man story. The first, as narrative, may be romantic bosh, but it does give one a loving, faithful study of background that is worth the price that it costs in illusion. It reaches my emotions as a novelist who splashed his sentiment with equal profusion never could.
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