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Updated: May 15, 2025
Men will know him and know that he is King. To you this truth is to be shown that you may tell it to others." "This is no vision?" said the bishop, "no dream that will pass away?" "Am I not here beside you?" The bishop was anxious to be very clear. Things that had been shapelessly present in his mind now took form and found words for themselves.
To be a bachelor, in that region, where Indian wives were so plenty and so easily got rid of, might bring some reproach on a man. Michel had begun to see that it did. He was an easy, gormandizing, good fellow, shapelessly fat, and he never had stirred himself during his month of freedom to do any courting. But Frenchmen of his class considered fifty the limit of an active life.
Agatha thought that the soft hat, which fell shapelessly over part of Sproatly's face, needed something to replace the discarded band; but in another moment he entered the room. He shook hands with them both. "You are looking remarkably fresh, but appearances are not invariably to be depended on, and it's advisable to keep the system up to par," he said with a smile.
And whatever the river chanced to send him down the unclean-feeder clutched at greedily with his arms, wading out into the water. Now there were in those days, and indeed still are, certain uncleanly cities upon the river of Time; and from them fearfully nameless things came floating shapelessly by.
The trees themselves dwindled to ragged mimosas, the brown sand at his feet spread out in a widening circumference and took the bright colour of honey; and upon the empty sand black stones began to heap themselves shapelessly like coal, and to flash in the sun like mirrors.
She would pat it with gentle taps, squatting shapelessly on a low stool. "Why go so far from thy old nurse, darling of my heart? Ah! love is love, and we have only one life to live, but this England is very far very far away." She nodded her big iron-gray head slowly; and to our longing England appeared very distant, too, a fortunate isle across the seas, an abode of peace, a sanctuary of love.
A whole world seems to part those dreary flats broken with lifeless inlets, those patches of sodden fields flung shapelessly among sheets of sullen water, from the life and joy of the Grand Canal. And yet really to understand the origin of Venice, those ages of terror and flight and exile in which the Republic took its birth, we must study them at Torcello.
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