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Updated: May 5, 2025
He was not long blindfold, and had not had many bumps against the trees before he impounded the person of a fat and scant-of-breath scholar, a girl whose hard breathing would have betrayed her neighbourhood to the dullest ear. "That's Polly Sims, I know," said the Vicar.
The progress and expansion of style and harmony in the successive works of Shakespeare must in some indefinite degree be perceptible to the youngest as to the oldest, to the dullest as to the keenest of Shakespearean students.
The priest, remembering these things, and all the awful suffering of the winter, determined to make the service symbolic, indeed, of the resurrection and the life, the annual resurrection and life that comes each year, a palpable miracle, to teach the dullest that God reigns. "How are you going to trim the altar?" cried a voice behind him.
In the case of the absolutely indeterminate sentence there is a motive that will quicken every energy and arouse the dullest to life and exercise, for he would be fighting for life and liberty liberty that could never be his until he had shown by his conduct that ready compliance with all requirements here was intended, and willingness to discard the old and detrimental habits, taking on new and profitable ones.
"And that's all I can tell you, Mr. Imsen," she finished crisply, and took up a novel with a significance which not even the dullest man could have ignored. Good Indian stared, flushed hotly, and made for the door. "Thank you for the information. I'm afraid this has been a lot of bother for you," he said stiffly, gave her a ceremonious little bow, and went his way stiff-necked and frowning.
Dunbude's the dullest hole in England, and we want somebody here to brighten it up, sadly. Did you ever see such an ugly monstrosity before, anywhere? 'The country about's lovely, Ernest answered, 'but the house itself is certainly rather ugly. 'Ugly! It's hideous. And it's as dull as it's big, said Hilda vehemently. 'You can't think what a time we have of it here half the year!
I have been reading the Memoir of J.H. Shorthouse, and it has been a great mystery to me. It is an essentially commonplace kind of life that is there revealed. He was a well-to-do manufacturer of vitriol, too, of all the incongruous things. He belonged to a cultivated suburban circle, that soil where the dullest literary flowers grow and flourish.
On the third day of Christmas week, after the midday dinner, all the inmates of the house dispersed to various rooms. It was the dullest time of the day. Nicholas, who had been visiting some neighbors that morning, was asleep on the sitting-room sofa. The old count was resting in his study. Sonya sat in the drawing room at the round table, copying a design for embroidery.
Generally, however, the hostile influences of the large incomes and the small mingled together on the neutral ground of the moderate incomes; turning it into the dullest, the dreariest, the most oppressively conventional division of the whole suburb.
"Ah, my dear Lady Erpingham, the dullest of us, having once seen the pearl, could at least imagine that we were able to appreciate the subtleties of its influence. Where, in this little world of tedious realities, can we find anything even to imagine about, when you abandon us?"
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