It will be all needed, well-blended with the divine attribute of patience, and judiciously seasoned with woman's especial gift tact, to enable man and wife to live together peaceably for one year. Moreover, Mary must understand that John the lover and John the husband have very different ways of showing affection.
Even the blackness of the great crags and the scorched air of the brown and water-logged moorland in the rear now ceased to oppress him. They fell into their proper place in one consistent and well-blended picture.
In a moment when we both were silent, renewing our amazement at the stars, there burst upon the night a volume of song that I instantly identified. "She sleeps, my lady sleeps!" sang the clear tenor of Arthur Updyke. "My lady sleeps she sleeps!" sang three other voices in well-blended corroboration; after which the four discoursed upon this interesting theme.
It is true, however, that, although he always held to the manner of Liberale, he yet imitated the softness and well-blended colouring of Giorgione, his first instructor, believing that the works of Liberale, while good in other respects, suffered from a certain dryness.
The most beautiful creature in the town; almond eyes, lids that dropped like curtains, lashes like a paint-brush, a face with an oval to drive Raffaelle mad, a skin of the most delicious coloring, tints well-blended, velvety! and hands, oh! "They weren't made of butter like those of the David school," put in Mistigris. "You are always lugging in your painting," cried Georges.
Nor was there any trace found of the body of Ko-Ngai; for it had been totally absorbed by the precious alloy, and blended with the well-blended brass and gold, with the intermingling of the silver and the iron.
The wall draperies, to me, looked simply a well-blended pattern in dull blue and other soft tints; just such as one might see in the shops anywhere. But the ladies were of a different opinion, and they at once began a close and exclamatory inspection of each, extolling their colour, their texture, their quaint designs, their rarity and costliness.
Ever could we rove over those sunny distances, breathing that modulated wind, eyeing those so well-blended, imaginative, yet thoughtful surfaces, and above us wide wide a horizon effortless and superb as a young divinity. "I was a prisoner where you glide, the summer's pensioned guest, and my chains were the past and the future, darkness and blowing sand.