Mr. Verloc, going out in the morning, left his shop nominally in charge of his brother-in-law.
At once the senior pilot arose in his mighty bulk and began to struggle into his coat, with awe-inspiring upheavals. The stranger and I hurried impulsively to his assistance, and directly we laid our hands on him he became perfectly quiescent. We had to raise our arms very high, and to make efforts. It was like caparisoning a docile elephant. With a “Thanks, gentlemen,” he dived under and squeezed himself through the door in a great hurry.
When he stepped off the straight and narrow path of his peculiar honesty, it was with an inward assertion of unflinching resolve to fall back again into the monotonous but safe stride of virtue as soon as his little excursion into the wayside quagmires had produced the desired effect.
Each station should be like a beacon on the road towards better things, a centre for trade of course, but also for humanizing, improving, instructing.
Anything – anything can be done in this country. That’s what I say; nobody here, you understand, here, can endanger your position. And why? You stand the climate – you outlast them all.
It looked like a high-handed proceeding; but it was really a case of legitimate self-defense. You can’t breathe dead hippo waking, sleeping, and eating, and at the same time keep your precarious grip on existence.
I went a little farther, then still a little farther – till I had gone so far that I don’t know how I’ll ever get back.
For socialism is not merely the labour question, it is before all things the atheistic question, the question of the form taken by atheism to-day, the question of the tower of Babel built without God, not to mount to heaven from earth but to set up heaven on earth.
He looked upon the immortal sea with the awakened and groping perception of its heartless might; he saw it unchanged, black and foaming under the eternal scrutiny of the stars; he heard its impatient voice calling for him out of a pitiless vastness full of unrest, turmoil, and of terror. He looked afar upon it, and he saw an immensity tortured and blind, moaning and furious, that claimed all the days of his tenacious life, and, when life was over, would claim the worn-out body of its slave...
Two women, one fat and the other slim, sat on straw-bottomed chairs, knitting black wool. The slim one got up and walked straight at me – still knitting with downcast eyes – and only just as I began to think of getting out of her way, as you would for a somnambulist, stood still, and looked up. Her dress was as plain as an umbrella-cover, and she turned round without a word and preceded me into a waiting-room.
The sun was low; and leaning forward side by side, they seemed to be tugging painfully uphill their two ridiculous shadows of unequal length, that trailed behind them slowly over the tall grass without bending a single blade.
All hope abandon, ye who enter in!
Sometimes he was contemptibly childish. He desired to have kings meet him at railway-stations on his return from some ghastly Nowhere, where he intended to accomplish great things.
I observed with assumed innocence that no man was safe from trouble in this world.
Mrs. Churchill, after being disliked at least twenty-five years, was now spoken of with compassionate allowances.
The point was in his being a gifted creature, and that of all his gifts the one that stood out pre-eminently, that carried with it a sense of real presence, was his ability to talk, his words – the gift of expression, the bewildering, the illuminating, the most exalted and the most contemptible, the pulsating stream of light, or the deceitful flow from the heart of an impenetrable darkness. “The.
This way there never passes a good soul; And hence if Charon doth complain of thee, Well mayst thou know now what his speech imports.
Their minds are of the stay-at-home order, and their home is always with them – the ship;.
Charles Gould did not open his heart to her in any set speeches. He simply went on acting and thinking in her sight. This is the true method of sincerity.
O Crassus, tell us, For thou dost know, what is the taste of gold?