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Updated: May 19, 2025
And the silken sheen and intoxicating perfume of her hair, and the trembling lashes shading the eager, longing, soul-hungry eyes; and the way the little pink ears nestle; and the fair, white, dovelike throat, with its ripple of lace. And then the dear arms about his neck and the soft clinging fingers that are intertwined with his own!
Didn't you know? Ain't we soul-sick an' soul-hungry, all of us? An' I tell you, this is goin' to do our souls good an' our stomachs too!" Nobody dropped anything, even in the flood of our amazement. We managed to get our savoury burden on the table, and some way we found ourselves in the chairs I at the head of my table where Calliope led me.
And who is Lazarus but a type of the aspiring the soul-hungry, whether he be a millionaire or a poor clerk the determined seeker whose eye is single and whose whole body is full of light?
"Don't you know a soul that's hungry, Mame Bliss?" She shook her head. "No," she said, "I don't. Nor nobody sick in body." "Nobody sick in body," Calliope repeated absently. "Soul-sick an' soul-hungry you can't feed up," Mis' Holcomb added. "I donno," said Calliope, thoughtfully, "I donno but you can."
So it seemed to that throng of eager, soul-hungry Italians who stood beneath the balcony of the hotel on the Pincian and drank the poet's fiery message like a full-bodied wine. At last they had found themselves. The Piazza Speaks "The voice of the piazza prevailed," the German Chancellor sneered in his denunciation of Italy at the conclusion.
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