Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 29, 2025
What excuses he made to himself poor hostages to a fast-crumbling honor! Only the exercise of a little subterfuge and all this horrible present would be a past. No more sleeping in the parks, no more of the hunger cancer. He would have a name, friends, kin, a future. Something to live for. Some one to care for; some one to care for him.
Or had the pales of Paradise been just smeared with bad coal-tar? Not exactly: but across the path crept, festering in the sun, a black runnel of petroleum and water; and twenty yards to our left stood, under a fast-crumbling trunk, what was a year or two ago a little engine-house.
The story that she sung that oft-repeated but never old message of love, of peace, of good-will, that binds the heart to God and makes the whole world kin yes they had heard it often but now their hearts, long irritated by selfish pride and hate, yielded to this sweet-voiced appeal, so softly yet so compellingly beating on these fast-crumbling barriers. The song was ended.
The low, half-sung, half-whispered foreign speech of the group, the roaring of the furnace, and the quick, sharp yelp of a coyote on the plain below were the only sounds that broke the awful silence of the hills. It was almost dawn when it was announced that the ore had fused. And it was high time, for the pot was slowly sinking into the fast-crumbling oven.
"Fear not for me, my fathers; humble as I am, I am strong in the faith of heaven and its angels." The Churchmen looked at each other, sly yet abashed; it was not precisely for the King that they feared. Then spoke Alred, the good prelate and constant peacemaker fair column and lone one of the fast-crumbling Saxon Church.
Our old acquaintance, Time, drops in, And while the running sands Their golden thread unheeded spin, He warms his frozen hands. Stay, winged hours, too swift, too sweet, And waft this message o'er To all we miss, from all we meet On life's fast-crumbling shore: Say that to old affection true We hug the narrowing chain That binds our hearts, alas, how few The links that yet remain!
"Fear not for me, my fathers; humble as I am, I am strong in the faith of heaven and its angels." The Churchmen looked at each other, sly yet abashed; it was not precisely for the King that they feared. Then spoke Alred, the good prelate and constant peacemaker fair column and lone one of the fast-crumbling Saxon Church.
Beyond the barricades and near the sea, where the low and narrow buildings were, lay the wounded and the fever-stricken; rude hospital enough! to some therein but a baiting-place where pain and panic and the miseries of the brain were become, for the time, their bed-fellows; to others the very house of dissolution, a fast-crumbling shelter built upon the brim of the world, with Death, the impartial beleaguer, already at the door.
Our old acquaintance, Time, drops in, And while the running sands Their golden thread unheeded spin, He warms his frozen hands. Stay, winged hours, too swift, too sweet, And waft this message o'er To all we miss, from all we meet On life's fast-crumbling shore: Say that to old affection true We hug the narrowing chain That binds our hearts, alas, how few The links that yet remain!
Word Of The Day
Others Looking