Sardonic

It seemed he could see the crystal light still, in the sardonic hall of his memory; hear the shout of accolade, empty in a husked land that stood even then hopeless against a gray ocean of time.

“What do you know about being a bastard?” “All dwarfs are bastards in their father’s eyes.” “You are your mother’s trueborn son of Lannister.” “Am I?” the dwarf replied, sardonic.

And there, shouldering its way out of the corn like a ragged silver ghost, was a huge Rocky Mountain timberwolf, its jaws hanging open in a sardonic grin, its eyes burning.

The sardonic is all that permits him to move within himself.

For a moment, there was sardonic satisfaction in the regent’s face, but it faded quickly.

you don’t like the dementors, do you, Albus?” said Moody with a sardonic smile.“No,” said Dumbledore calmly, “I’m afraid I don’t.

“But still, if Albert be not so rich as Mademoiselle Danglars,” said the count, “you must allow that he has a fine name?” “So he has; but I like mine as well.” “Certainly; your name is popular, and does honor to the title they have adorned it with; but you are too intelligent not to know that according to a prejudice, too firmly rooted to be exterminated, a nobility which dates back five centuries is worth more than one that can only reckon twenty years.” “And for this very reason,” said Danglars with a smile, which he tried to make sardonic, “I prefer M. Andrea Cavalcanti to M. Albert de Morcerf.” “Still, I should not think the Morcerfs would yield to the Cavalcanti?” “The Morcerfs!—Stay, my dear count,” said Danglars; “you are a man of the world, are you not?” “I think so.” “And you understand heraldry?” “A little.” “Well, look at my coat-of-arms, it is worth more than Morcerf’s.” “Why so?” “Because, though I am not a baron by birth, my real name is, at least, Danglars.” “Well, what then?” “While his name is not Morcerf.” “How?—not Morcerf?” “Not the least in the world.” “Go on.” “I have been made a baron, so that I actually am one; he made himself a count, so that he is not one at all.” “Impossible!” “Listen my dear count; M. de Morcerf has been my friend, or rather my acquaintance, during the last thirty years.

Rife delivers this line with an incredibly sardonic and contemptuous twang, the exaggerated accent of a cowboy who suspects that some Yankee pencilneck is looking down his nose at him.

Rasim was a sardonic Damascene, who rose laughing to every crisis and slunk about sore-headed with grievances when things went well.

“I was just thinking of the expression on the marquis’s face when we tell him we got the key from the friars without his help.” “I’m sure he’ll have something sardonic to say about it,” she said.

But this bastard son of his … they say he’s mad and cruel, a monster.” “They say?” Rhaegar Frey sported a silky beard and a sardonic smile.

I say, you really got the goods back, what do you suggest?” “Why,” said the colonel, eyeing him with a certain sardonic approval, “I should suggest that henceforward we wear green coats, instead of black.

The girls disrobed at once, pausing in different stages to point proudly to their garish underthings and bantering all the while with the gaunt and dissipated old man with the shabby long white hair and slovenly white unbuttoned shirt who sat cackling lasciviously in a musty blue armchair almost in the exact center of the room and bade Nately and his companions welcome with a mirthful and sardonic formality.