Woman

And later, when darkness had come and the rushing thundershowers with it; while huge, phantom caissons rolled across the sky and lightning washed the crooked streets of the lower town in blue fire; while horses stood at hitching rails with their heads down and their tails drooping, the gunslinger took a woman and lay with her.

‘The time for fear is past.’ The woman turned and went slowly into the house.

If ever a poor woman was sacrificed for policy to an unsavory marriage, it was myself.

The heartless woman—no, the foolish woman; she was not heartless, but only thoughtless—went straight home and told the neighbors all about it, whilst we, the small friends of the fairies, were asleep and not witting the calamity that was come upon us, and all unconscious that we ought to be up and trying to stop these fatal tongues.

And we all know that Wickham has every charm of person and address that can captivate a woman.” “But you see that Jane,” said her aunt, “does not think so ill of Wickham, as to believe him capable of the attempt.” “Of whom does Jane ever think ill?

That man, who’s so famous for having a great mind, he pulled that girl out of high school in her sophomore year so he could go on having some woman take care of him.

He said, in this one part, that a woman’s body is like a violin and all, and that it takes a terrific musician to play it right.

The wolves were as famished as he was, gaunt and cold and hungry, and the prey … two men and a woman, a babe in arms, fleeing from defeat to death.

Ravish’d she lifted her Circean head, Blush’d a live damask, and swift-lisping said, “I was a woman, let me have once more A woman’s shape, and charming as before.

“My wife,” continued Prince Andréy, “is an excellent woman, one of those rare women with whom a man’s honor is safe; but, O God, what would I not give now to be unmarried!

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

The man who had left his saw sticking in the firewood he was cutting, set it in motion again; the woman who had left on a doorstep the little pot of hot ashes, at which she had been trying to soften the pain in her own starved fingers and toes, or in those of her child, returned to it; men with bare arms, matted locks, and cadaverous faces, who had emerged into the winter light from cellars, moved away, to descend again; and a gloom gathered on the scene that appeared more natural to it than sunshine.

He recalled another thing the old woman had said about a world being the sum of many things — the people, the dirt, the growing things, the moons, the tides, the suns — the unknown sum called nature, a vague summation without any sense of the now.

For a split second, Harry thought he was looking through a window, a window behind which an old woman in a black cap was screaming and screaming as though she was being tortured — then he realized it was simply a life-size portrait, but the most realistic, and the most unpleasant, he had ever seen in his life.

Though who among us doesn’t fear being dashed into hell when we paint into a sacred scene from Scriptures some baby we see on the street, a woman we love, a man we admire?” The Master becomes morose.

Then a dirty woman, carrying a heavy bundle and weeping.

I could only tell him that I was the happiest woman in all the wide world, and that I had nothing to give him except myself, my life, and my trust, and that with these went my love and duty for all the days of my life.

For my part I consider that it is better to be adventurous than cautious, because fortune is a woman, and if you wish to keep her under it is necessary to beat and ill-use her; and it is seen that she allows herself to be mastered by the adventurous rather than by those who go to work more coldly.

What are you doing in my home?” The woman stared at him in frightened wonder, she must have thought she was dealing with a maniac—Jurgis looked like one.

’Tis true, a soldier can small honour gain, And boast no conquest, from a woman slain: Yet shall the fact not pass without applause, Of vengeance taken in so just a cause; The punish’d crime shall set my soul at ease, And murm’ring manes of my friends appease.’ Thus while I rave, a gleam of pleasing light Spread o’er the place; and, shining heav’nly bright, My mother stood reveal’d before my sight Never so radiant did her eyes appear; Not her own star confess’d a light so clear: Great in her charms, as when on gods above She looks, and breathes herself into their love.

"If it's love toward a woman or an android imitation, it's sex. Wake up and face yourself, Deckard. You wanted to go to bed with a female type of android - nothing more, nothing less. I felt that way, on one occasion. When I had just started bounty hunting. Don't let it get you down; you'll heal. What's happened is that you've got your order reversed. Don't kill her - or be present when she's killed - and then feel physically attracted. Do it the other way."

But all at once he became the handmaid of a woman, and now would he need also to become an angel.

So soon as I hear that such or such a man gives himself out for a philosopher, I conclude that, like the dyspeptic old woman, he must have “broken his digester.” As I sat there in that now lonely room; the fire burning low, in that mild stage when, after its first intensity has warmed the air, it then only glows to be looked at; the evening shades and phantoms gathering round the casements, and peering in upon us silent, solitary twain; the storm booming without in solemn swells; I began to be sensible of strange feelings.

If you knew—I have cried so much, I have suffered so much.” And, throwing himself at her feet on the floor, Pinocchio embraced the knees of the mysterious little woman and began to cry bitterly.

The old woman looked in once and counted the empty bottles.

He felt his coat clutched and beheld at his feet a woman bathed in tears.

"You will save Ser Bennis from Dake's fate. I know it. I am no mean judge of men, and you are the true steel. You will give them pause, ser. The very sight of you. When that woman sees that Standfast has such a champion, she may well take down that dam of her own accord."

The following day Dantès presented Jacopo with an entirely new vessel, accompanying the gift by a donation of one hundred piastres, that he might provide himself with a suitable crew and other requisites for his outfit, upon condition that he would go at once to Marseilles for the purpose of inquiring after an old man named Louis Dantès, residing in the Allées de Meilhan, and also a young woman called Mercédès, an inhabitant of the Catalan village.

It was easier to try for your sakes than for my own; a startled or surprised look from one of you, when I spoke sharply, rebuked me more than any words could have done; and the love, respect, and confidence of my children was the sweetest reward I could receive for my efforts to be the woman I would have them copy.” “O mother, if I’m ever half as good as you, I shall be satisfied,” cried Jo, much touched.

“That’s the sort of woman for me!

Lastly, she pictured to herself how this same little sister of hers would, in the aftertime, be herself a grown woman; and how she would keep, through all her riper years, the simple and loving heart of her childhood: and how she would gather about her other little children, and make their eyes bright and eager with many a strange tale, perhaps even with the dream of Wonderland of long ago: and how she would feel with all their simple sorrows, and find a pleasure in all their simple joys, remembering her own child-life, and the happy summer days.

I voted the end of the tyrant, that is to say, the end of prostitution for woman, the end of slavery for man, the end of night for the child.

She huddled by the fire not daring to move, helpless and guilty, a big woman.

I heard that woman's voice again: Percy, take the sword.

The snakes prepared for war on the humans, but the woman’s husband tried to make peace.

Either is in such a predicament as the man who was earnest to be introduced to a distinguished deaf woman, but when he was presented, and one end of her ear trumpet was put into his hand, had nothing to say.

Curves curves … Those little valleys had the lines of a cup moulded round a woman’s breast; they seemed the dinted imprints of some huge divine body that had rested on these hills.

The soul is of itself, All verges to it, all has reference to what ensues, All that a person does, says, thinks, is of consequence, Not a move can a man or woman make, that affects him or her in a day, month, any part of the direct lifetime, or the hour of death, But the same affects him or her onward afterward through the indirect lifetime.

I try to remember that when all I can see is the woman who sat by, blank and unreachable, while her children turned to skin and bones.

And when the light-foot mower went afield Across the meadows laced with threaded dew, And the sheep bleated on the misty weald, And from its nest the waking corncrake flew, Some woodmen saw him lying by the stream And marvelled much that any lad so beautiful could seem, Nor deemed him born of mortals, and one said, “It is young Hylas, that false runaway Who with a Naiad now would make his bed Forgetting Herakles,” but others, “Nay, It is Narcissus, his own paramour, Those are the fond and crimson lips no woman can allure.” And when they nearer came a third one cried, “It is young Dionysos who has hid His spear and fawnskin by the river side Weary of hunting with the Bassarid, And wise indeed were we away to fly, They live not long who on the gods immortal come to spy.” So turned they back, and feared to look behind, And told the timid swain how they had seen Amid the reeds some woodland God reclined, And no man dared to cross the open green, And on that day no olive-tree was slain, Nor rushes cut, but all deserted was the fair domain, Save when the neat-herd’s lad, his empty pail Well slung upon his back, with leap and bound Raced on the other side, and stopped to hail, Hoping that he some comrade new had found, And gat no answer, and then half afraid Passed on his simple way, or down the still and silent glade A little girl ran laughing from the farm, Not thinking of love’s secret mysteries, And when she saw the white and gleaming arm And all his manlihood, with longing eyes Whose passion mocked her sweet virginity Watched him awhile, and then stole back sadly and wearily.

It had been her care which provided me a companion in Clerval—and yet a man is blind to a thousand minute circumstances which call forth a woman’s sedulous attention.

Hiro's avatar stops moving and stares at her, adopting just the same facial expression with which he used to stare at this woman years ago.

Thick feet that woman has in the white stockings.

The front of the woman was composed of two hinged doors.

Then the housewife would insert the light poles one by one, under the cloth, and lever it up by them, until the whole was in place, pitched single-handed by the one weak woman, however rough the wind.

But his pale eyes flickered slightly as they rested on the brown-haired woman in her trim police uniform.

A woman in the gaudy garb of a city Fremen was straightening from beside the Priest on the floor.

“This is Inspector Newcomen of Scotland Yard.” A flash of odious joy appeared upon the woman’s face.

A mere likeness of some old woman, or even old animal, some one or some thing the Sidhe have no longer a use for, is believed to be left instead of the person who is “away”; this some one or some thing can, it is thought, be driven away by threats, or by violence (though I have heard country women say that violence is wrong), which perhaps awakes the soul out of the magical sleep.

She thought, “If I am wise I can yet save my Lord from the persecutions of these quarrelsome Queens,” and she held out her finger and whispered softly to the Butterfly’s Wife, “Little woman, come here.” Up flew the Butterfly’s Wife, very frightened, and clung to Balkis’s white hand.

His affection for this brown tender woman thing went cold and fearful, but he could not hurt her, could not abuse her trust.

“Surely if a woman committed a crime like murder, she’d be sufficiently cold-blooded to enjoy the fruits of it without any weak-minded sentimentality such as repentance.” Caroline shook her head.

Unseemly woman in a seeming man, And ill-beseeming beast in seeming both!

Hawthorne, I fancy, could weave one of his weird romances out of this little telepathic episode, the one strange marvel of my life, probably replacing my good old Professor by an attractive woman.

A woman’s hand: he could smell a familiar perfume.

The funny thing is this woman had done this as a newlywed, and gone on to do it for the next ten years of marriage and now she was writing to Dear Abby to ask if Abby thought it meant something.

And so he will see even the real gaping jaws of wild beasts with no less pleasure than those which painters and sculptors show by imitation; and in an old woman and an old man he will be able to see a certain maturity and comeliness; and the attractive loveliness of young persons he will be able to look on with chaste eyes; and many such things will present themselves, not pleasing to every man, but to him only who has become truly familiar with nature and her works.

By woman here thou tread'st this mournful strand, And Greece by woman lies a desert land.'

He dreamt an old dream of a hovel by the sea, three dogs whimpering, a woman’s tears.

You are leaving suspicion on an honest boy with a good deal against him already; you are separating him from the woman he loves and who loves him.

As for Tom, the fact that he “had some woman in New York” was really less surprising than that he had been depressed by a book.

Only an old woman! … but the size, The old, old matriarchal dreadfulness, Immovable, intolerable … the eyes Hidden, the hidden head, the winding dress, Corpselike … The weight of the brute that seemed to press Upon his heart and breathing.

Quickly, he came walking, took the woman on his arms, carried her into the boat, the boy ran along, and soon they all reached the hut, where Siddhartha stood by the stove and was just lighting the fire.

In Madame Dubuc’s time the old woman felt that she was still the favorite; but now the love of Charles for Emma seemed to her a desertion from her tenderness, an encroachment upon what was hers, and she watched her son’s happiness in sad silence, as a ruined man looks through the windows at people dining in his old house.

Well hast thou motioned, well thy thoughts employed How we might best fulfil the work which here God hath assigned us, nor of me shalt pass Unpraised, for nothing lovelier can be found In woman than to study household good, And good works in her husband to promote.

It so happened, then, that Luscinda having begged of me a book of chivalry to read, one that she was very fond of, Amadís of Gaul—” Don Quixote no sooner heard a book of chivalry mentioned, than he said: “Had your worship told me at the beginning of your story that the Lady Luscinda was fond of books of chivalry, no other laudation would have been requisite to impress upon me the superiority of her understanding, for it could not have been of the excellence you describe had a taste for such delightful reading been wanting; so, as far as I am concerned, you need waste no more words in describing her beauty, worth, and intelligence; for, on merely hearing what her taste was, I declare her to be the most beautiful and the most intelligent woman in the world; and I wish your worship had, along with Amadís of Gaul, sent her the worthy Don Ruger of Greece, for I know the Lady Luscinda would greatly relish Daraida and Garaya, and the shrewd sayings of the shepherd Darinel, and the admirable verses of his bucolics, sung and delivered by him with such sprightliness, wit, and ease; but a time may come when this omission can be remedied, and to rectify it nothing more is needed than for your worship to be so good as to come with me to my village, for there I can give you more than three hundred books which are the delight of my soul and the entertainment of my life;—though it occurs to me that I have not got one of them now, thanks to the spite of wicked and envious enchanters;—but pardon me for having broken the promise we made not to interrupt your discourse; for when I hear chivalry or knights-errant mentioned, I can no more help talking about them than the rays of the sun can help giving heat, or those of the moon moisture; pardon me, therefore, and proceed, for that is more to the purpose now.” While Don Quixote was saying this, Cardenio allowed his head to fall upon his breast, and seemed plunged in deep thought; and though twice Don Quixote bade him go on with his story, he neither looked up nor uttered a word in reply; but after some time he raised his head and said, “I cannot get rid of the idea, nor will anyone in the world remove it, or make me think otherwise—and he would be a blockhead who would hold or believe anything else than that that arrant knave Master Elisabad made free with Queen Madasima.” “That is not true, by all that’s good,” said Don Quixote in high wrath, turning upon him angrily, as his way was; “and it is a very great slander, or rather villainy.

The woman had a long, brooding oval face of burnt umber, with coarse graying black hair parted severely in the middle and combed back austerely behind her neck without curl, wave or ornamentation.

At my summons, instead of the man of violence whom we expected, a very old and wrinkled woman hobbled into the apartment.

A half-starved Highland woman frequently bears more than twenty children, while a pampered fine lady is often incapable of bearing any, and is generally exhausted by two or three.