The room should not be dark, but rather shadowed, or charged with a dull light, somewhat such as prevails on a cloudy or wet day.
On the further side the bedclothes were depressed as if someone had been recently sitting there.
With your great love of beauty and refinement, anything which is coarse, crude, and ugly in your environment is very depressing to you.
“Hey, there’s a guy down here, one of the techs.
It is now after the dinner-hour of the asylum, and as yet my patient sits in a corner brooding, with a dull, sullen, woe-begone look in his face, which seems rather to indicate than to show something directly.
CHAPTER 29 Before the house-maid had lit their fire the next day, or the sun gained any power over a cold, gloomy morning in January, Marianne, only half dressed, was kneeling against one of the window-seats for the sake of all the little light she could command from it, and writing as fast as a continual flow of tears would permit her.
Elinor had often wished for an opportunity of attempting to weaken her mother's dependence on the attachment of Edward and herself, that the shock might be less when the whole truth were revealed, and now on this attack, though almost hopeless of success, she forced herself to begin her design by saying, as calmly as she could, "I like Edward Ferrars very much, and shall always be glad to see him; but as to the rest of the family, it is a matter of perfect indifference to me, whether I am ever known to them or not."
The Weasel and the MiceA WEASEL, inactive from age and infirmities, was not able to catch mice as he once did.
But the threat of aCommunist plot to steal top-secret military data was enough to focus theattention of the previously lethargic investigators.
If I don't allow them my Lifeless, then Hallandren will not win any wars."
The stern and already rigid profile of her face looked as though chiselled of marble too, and the smile on her pale lips was full of an immense unchildish misery and sorrowful appeal.
Be still, ye pessimistic moles!"
It was the sad, sudden end for us two of this memorable day.
cried the Canon, as though he had only just escaped a serious breach of hospitality. “
She came to him and she said, 'Be not sorrowful any more, Odysseus.
Enthusiasm cannot cling to what itself is unenthusiastic, nor will he ever have disciples who has not himself impulsive zeal enough to be a disciple.
'Unhappy in your conjectures, sir,' observed my host; 'we neither of us have the privilege of owning your good fairy; her mate is dead.
That scream always preceded his fits, and always terrified and upsetMarfa Ignatyevna.