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They's some that say it can't be done. But look at this crew. Do they look like rough uns?" A stir had passed among the cowpunchers and solemn stares of hate transfixed Lawlor, but he went on: "I'm askin' you, do these look rough?" "I should say," answered Bard courteously, "that you have a pretty experienced lot of cattle-men." "Experienced? Well, they'll pass.
At first the mules had plodded with ears pricked forward, and with sundry snorts and stares as if they were seeing portents in the moonshine. Eventually their imaginings dulled, so that they now moved careless of where or why, their heads drooped, their minds devoted to achieving what rest they might in the merely mechanical setting of hoof before hoof. I could not but be aware of my companion.
A fever-stricken private says to Bobby Wick, "Beg y' pardon, sir, disturbin' of you now, but would you min' 'oldin' my 'and, sir?" and later, when the private becomes convalescent and Bobby in his turn is stricken down, the private suddenly stares in horror at his bed, and cries, "Oh, my Gawd! It can't be 'im!" People talk like that.
She repines, her womanly nature revolts at the thought the destiny her superstition pictured so dark and terrible, stares her in the face.
Stanley just stares at me and after that confines his remarks to statin' that he don't care for mint sauce on roast lamb and that he never takes coffee at night. "Huh!" says I to Vee afterward. "When does he spring that jolly stuff? Or was that conundrum about July cotton a vaudeville gag that got past me?" No, I hadn't missed any cues. Vee explains that young Mr.
Standing before the chimney in his bedroom, with his elbows flat on the mantel-shelf and his two fists under his chin, he stares at his image in the looking-glass. He is not crying now, he can shed no more tears, nor fling himself about on his bed, nor give way to despair, as he has been doing for the last two hours and more. He wants to think, to think and understand.
The fascinated deer stares into the blaze of the jack-light while the hunter's canoe creeps through the lily-pads. But the charm that masters them is one of dread, not of love. It is the witchcraft of the serpent's lambent look.
All in vain; she puts her head down and gallops on, if possible more madly than before. Still larger looms that terrible wall; death stares me in the face, and for the first time in my life I undergo the intense agony of mortal terror. We are now at the end of the lane. There is one chance only, and that the most desperate, of saving my life.
"It is not my intention," he said, "to make a very long preface, or to enter into any general discussion as regards the state or condition of Ireland: suffice it for me, that this great fact stares us in the face, that at this moment there are 500,000 able-bodied persons in Ireland living upon the funds of the State.
There is a path from the valley for the strangers, the path by which they came; and when the sun stares forth again upon the world, the way shall be open, and there shall be safety for you until your travel ends in the quick world whither you go. You were foolish; now you are wise. It is time to depart; seek not to return, that we may have peace and you safety.
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