ellauri060.html on line 500: {Saying, “May I go along with you?”, “Oh no, my love, farewell,”}
ellauri060.html on line 506: “Oh no, my love, farewell,”
ellauri100.html on line 742: “Oh,” cried Lizzie, “Laura, Laura,
ellauri107.html on line 491: “Look here now, Paul! You're pretty darn near talking socialism!” “Oh yes, of course I don't really exactly mean that—I s'pose. Course—competition—brings out the best—survival of the fittest—but—
ellauri107.html on line 511: “I don't see why they give us this old-fashioned junk by Milton and Shakespeare and Wordsworth and all these has-beens,” he protested. “Oh, I guess I could stand it to see a show by Shakespeare, if they had swell scenery and put on a lot of dog, but to sit down in cold blood and READ 'em—These teachers—how do they get that way?”
ellauri107.html on line 515: “Oh punk. I don't see what's the use of law-school—or even finishing high school. I don't want to go to college 'specially. Honest, there's lot of fellows that have graduated from colleges that don't begin to make as much money as fellows that went to work early. Old Shimmy Peters, that teaches Latin in the High, he's a what-is-it from Columbia and he sits up all night reading a lot of greasy books and he's always spieling about the 'value of languages,' and the poor soak doesn't make but eighteen hundred a year, and no traveling salesman would think of working for that. I know what I'd like to do. I'd like to be an aviator, or own a corking big garage, or else—a fellow was telling me about it yesterday—I'd like to be one of these fellows that the Standard Oil
ellauri153.html on line 471: “Oh for a muse like a refiner’s fire, and like a fuller’s soap! – She will dare to purify the natural use of the senses from
ellauri197.html on line 168: Clifton was a gambler and in 1957 the Evening Standard described his behaviour in the Monte Carlo casino: “Tall, bearded, always dressed in heavy tweeds with a heavy brown scarf wrapped around his neck....he is notable for heavy gambling carried out with the appearance of complete unconcern, and sudden outbursts of indiscriminate generosity.” He often fell prey to conmen and lost a great deal of money through ill advised business deals. When warned that one of his acquaintances was dangerous he replied “Oh, I know, but you see I like bad types!” Many of his projects were started with great enthusiasm but he quickly lost interest and dropped them, these included the construction of a zoo and plans for a new town on his Lancashire estate.
ellauri276.html on line 1129: “Oh, it's past two o'clock, boys, it's time to unyoke.” "Oi, kello on yli kaksi, pojat, on aika päästää ikeestä."
ellauri321.html on line 103: Among other books there fell into a guy named Hazlitt's hands a little volume of double interest to him by reason of his own early sojourn in America, and in a fitting connection he gave it a word of praise. In the Edinburgh Review for October, 1829, he speaks of it as giving one an idea “how American scenery and manners may be treated with a lively poetic interest. The pictures are sometimes highly colored, but they are vivid and strikingly characteristic.” “The author,” he continues, “gives not only the objects, but the feelings of a new country.” Hazlitt had read the book and had been delighted with it nearly a quarter of a century before he wrote of it, and in the earliest years of the century he had commended it warmly to his friends. In November, 1805, Lamb wrote: “Oh, tell Hazlitt not to forget the American Farmer. I dare say it is not so good as he fancies; but a book's a book.”* And it is this book, which not only gained the sympathies of Hazlitt and Charles Lamb, but also by its idealized treatment of American country life may possibly have stirred, as Professor Moses Coit Tyler thought, the imaginations of Byron and Coleridge.
ellauri323.html on line 133: Yet Zuleika WAS very innocent, really. She was as pure as that young shepherdess Marcella, who, all unguarded, roved the mountains and was by all the shepherds adored. Like Marcella, she had given her heart to no man, had preferred none. Youths were reputed to have died for love of her, as Chrysostom died for love of the shepherdess; and she, like the shepherdess, had shed no tear. When Chrysostom was lying on his bier in the valley, and Marcella looked down from the high rock, Ambrosio, the dead man’s comrade, cried out on her, upbraiding her with bitter words—“Oh basilisk of our mountains!” Nor do I think Ambrosio spoke too strongly. Er. epm. homopetteri Horace Walpole (josta on paasattu albumeissa 14, 52, 75, 115, 235 ja 247) nimitteli Woolworthin Marya “a hyena in petticoats” or “a philosophising serpent” .
ellauri323.html on line 140: “Oh, I never go in motors,” said Zuleika. “They make one look like nothing on earth, and like everybody else.” You seem to like tartan. What tartan is it you are wearing?”
ellauri359.html on line 65: The original mole entered the Grahame household some years before the book. The author found the creature in his garden tussling with a blackbird for a worm. He kept it as a pet until a new housekeeper, thinking it vermin, killed it. On learning her mistake, she cried: “Oh, but sir, couldn’t you just make the mole into a story for Master Alastair?” Shortly after, Graham began to regale his son with bedtime tales of the riverbank creatures.
xxx/ellauri139.html on line 729: “Oh leave me not in this eternal woe, Laula lisää kulta, älä tolla lailla vaivaa
xxx/ellauri167.html on line 166: Quando rispuosi, cominciai: “Oh lasso, Kun vastasin, aloitin tällä: oi suopunki,
xxx/ellauri179.html on line 458: “Oh, Juice, Heaven and Hell.”
xxx/ellauri179.html on line 486: “Oh, Papa, I know you like the realists,” Juice said.
xxx/ellauri179.html on line 550: “Oh, yeah? What's a bright boy to you? You're something of a bright boy yourself.”
xxx/ellauri225.html on line 327: When she took questions after her reading, I stood up from my spot in the back of the room and asked Le Guin why she didn’t talk explicitly about sex, hoping for I’m not sure what — some response that would both justify the work I’d been trying to do and connect it to her own work, that I so admired. Instead, Le Guin gave a curt answer about those details not being that interesting. I said, “Oh.” And “Thank you.” I sat down, and tried not to be crushed.
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