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Updated: May 23, 2025
Among the words mingled with that mournful saliva which accompanies tears, they distinguished words like the following: "Father, do not leave us. Is it possible that we have found you only to lose you again?" It might be said that agony writhes. It goes, comes, advances towards the sepulchre, and returns towards life. There is groping in the action of dying.
Whatever interest may have been imputed to him should be placed to the account of his hapless victim; to the first striving with distrust of a generous nature; to the vague sense of misery, then its gradual developement, then the final overthrow of absolute faith; and, last of all, to the throes of agony of the noble Moor, as he writhes and gasps in his accursed toils.
It writhes and struggles across the hot earth, or spreads out silver-spined branches into a tree-like bush, or, in the great pitahaya, rises in fierce dignity like a monitor against the deep blue sky.
Here is my grub under the same conditions as just now, with this difference, that the back and not the belly of its victim is presented to its mandibles. I watch it for a whole afternoon. It writhes about; it moves its little head now in this direction, now in that, frequently laying it on the Cetonia, but without fixing it anywhere. The day draws to a close; and still it has accomplished nothing.
'But no one loves the aguish mist That writhes its way at eventide Along the copse's waterside'. 'But now the sower's hand is writhed In livid death . 'To-morrow's brindled shouting storms with flood The purblind hollows with a leaden rain And flat the gleaning-fields to choking mud And writhe the groaning woods with bursts of pain'.
In the Psalms of David, or whoever wrote the book, we read these words: "I am a worm, and not a man." What did the Oriental see in the worm, which induced him to select it out of all things as the original, so to speak, of man? The worm crawls and creeps and writhes. Nothing is so distressing as to see its helpless wiggling and its home is in the dust; dirt is its daily food.
Here the dire locusts' horrid swarms prevail; Here the blue asps with livid poison swell; Here the dry dipsa writhes his sinuous mail; Can we not here secure from envy dwell? When the grim lion urged his cruel chase, When the stern panther sought his midnight prey; What fate reserved me for this Christian race? O race more polished, more severe than they!
Castracane is tied like a netted calf his hands behind him, and them to his neck. What's the good of his strength? He is as strong as the town bull; but if he writhes his hands he strangles, and if he thrusts his neck he chokes. Ecco!" Silvestro was staring down into the valley. "Where is Messer Alessandro, Andrea? Tell me quickly, for I can save Castracane."
With its Phantom chased forever more, By a crowd that seize it not, Through a circle that ever returneth in To the self-same spot, And much of Madness and more of Sin And Horror the soul of the plot. But see, amid the mimic rout, A crawling shape intrude! A blood-red thing that writhes from out The scenic solitude!
For it makes no matter if a nation writhes in agony, or man wreaks hate on man, the wind and the sky still whisper and smile; and the scent of wild flowers is not canceled by the stench of tired humanity. Fred knocked his pipe out and rode to the top of shoulder of rock beside the track, beckoning to me to follow.
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