ellauri006.html on line 1475: Hänen händäns ojendu nijncuin Cedripuu

ellauri017.html on line 933: Hän käy puiden seas medzäsä hacataxens Cedripuita ja ottaxens Böökiä ja Tamme ja Cedripuuta joca istutettu on ja satesta on caswanut.
ellauri035.html on line 313: With on his axe the moon and in his dripping net
ellauri050.html on line 314: Wherein tea-drippings stagnate, spilt down ever missä kyyneltipat pysähtyy, putoillen
ellauri051.html on line 1219: 624 Straining the udder of my heart for its withheld drip, 624 Kiristän sydämeni utaretta sen pidätetyn tippumisen vuoksi,
ellauri051.html on line 1421: 821 They fetch my man's body up dripping and drown'd. 821 He noutavat mieheni ruumiin tippuvana ja hukkuneena.
ellauri051.html on line 1465: 865 The ambulanza slowly passing trailing its red drip, 865 Ambulanza ohitti hitaasti punaisen tippaansa perässä,
ellauri100.html on line 967: Trudg’d home, her pitcher dripping all the way;
ellauri100.html on line 1146: But laugh’d in heart to feel the drip
ellauri112.html on line 693: The same can be said for Cody’s rough around the edges, unsubtle screenplay. This is far from her best work and for once, she seems to have written herself into a corner. Some of the narrative is so contrived that it’s dripping with cliché, crowded with irritating, pithy platitudes dressed up in a bright hipster bow. Worst of all, the film treats serious post-partum depression as a gimmicky afterthought and even tacks on a borderline inappropriate ‘gotcha!’ ending.
ellauri144.html on line 376: Love drips and gathers, but the fallen blood Kiima tippuu lammikoxi, vaan valahtanut veri
ellauri180.html on line 395: Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl, pois mun tippuvan kumisuojaimen,
ellauri241.html on line 1132: His dripping wand she softly kist,

ellauri241.html on line 1578: And the great Sea-King bow'd his dripping head.

ellauri278.html on line 161: Shoot these rabid dogs. Death to this gang who hide their ferocious teeth, their eagle claws, from the people! Down with that vulture Trotsky, from whose mouth a bloody venom drips, putrefying the great ideals of Marxism! ... Down with these abject animals! Let's put an end once and for all to these miserable hybrids of foxes and pigs, these stinking corpses! Let's exterminate the mad dogs of capitalism, who want to tear to pieces the flower of our new Soviet nation! Let's push the bestial hatred they bear our leaders back down their own throats!
ellauri281.html on line 160: Shoot these rabid dogs. Death to this gang who hide their ferocious teeth, their eagle claws, from the people! Down with that vulture Trotsky, from whose mouth a bloody venom drips, putrefying the great ideals of Marxism! ... Down with these abject animals! Let's put an end once and for all to these miserable hybrids of foxes and pigs, these stinking corpses! Let's exterminate the mad dogs of capitalism, who want to tear to pieces the flower of our new Soviet nation! Let's push the bestial hatred they bear our leaders back down their own throats!
ellauri302.html on line 220: Time to close shop, says Yekel. Reizel! To bed! Basha! Time to go to sleep! (From without are heard girls' voices: Soon. Right away!) Yekel, calling into the entry. Reizel! Basha! Enter two girls, running. Rain is dripping from their wet, filmy dresses and from their unbraided hair. They are in a merry mood and speak with laughter. Yekel leaves, slamming the door behind him.)
ellauri302.html on line 290: (A long pause. The stage is empty. Soon Manke leads in Rifkele. They are both wrapped in the same wet shawl... Their hair is dripping wet. Large drops of water fall from their clothes to the floor. They are barefoot... Hindel, behind her curtain, listens as before.)
ellauri311.html on line 69: The word exude is somewhat closely related to exuberant. While the former denotes dripping of sweat, the latter dripping from your udder, i.e. your boobs, not your cunt.
ellauri342.html on line 470: Small and mighty in the drip of rain: Pieninä ja mahtavina tihkusateessa;
xxx/ellauri103.html on line 343: The attitude drips of racial supremacy, and the implication is clear: “I don’t care what you deem is important or sacred. I want to do with it what I will. Your experience is simply a tool for me to use, because you are less human than me. You are less than human…”
xxx/ellauri193.html on line 804: The wo/man’s spiral (sorry, spinal) cord will rupture at the point where it enters the skull, electrochemical discharges will send his/her limbs flailing in a grotesque dance, eyes and tongues will start from the facial apertures under the assault of the rope and his/her bowels and bladder may simultaneously void themselves to soil the legs and drip onto the floor.
xxx/ellauri251.html on line 2415: There; and blood drips from hand and thread, and stains
xxx/ellauri261.html on line 257: Suddenly she grabbed my knee. “Sammy,” she said, “do you think that Alice and I are lesbians?” I had a genuine hot curl of fire up my spine. “I don’t see that it’s anybody’s business one way or another,” I said. “Do you care whether we are,” she asked. “Not in the least,” I said. I was suddenly dripping wet. “Are you queer or gay or different or ‘of it’ as the French say or whatever they are calling it nowadays,” she said, looking narrowly at me. I waggled my hand sidewise. “Both ways,” I said. “I don’t see why I should go through life limping on just one leg to satisfy a so-called norm.” “It bothers a lot of people,” Gertrude said. “But like you said, it’s nobody’s business, it came from the Judeo-Christian ethos, especially Saint Paul the bastard, but he was complaining about youngsters who were not really that way, they did it for money, everybody suspects us or knows but nobody says anything about it. Did Thornie tell you?” “Only when I asked him a direct question and then he didn’t want to answer, he didn’t want to at all. He said yes he supposed in the beginning but that it was all over now.” Gertrude laughed. “How could he know. He doesn’t know what love is. And that’s just like Thornie.”
xxx/ellauri354.html on line 281: Indeed, as Rinaldi claims, The Black Pig “tells you about those priests” (FTA 8). And it is easy enough to see why the priest thought it “a filthy and vile book.” But Rinaldi’s complaint, that it “shook my faith” (7), needs to be read in the context of everything else we know of this character. If Rinaldi is a real believer—which I doubt—he would disdain Notari’s book, which, although heavily documented, is dripping with scorn, irony, and bias. But if his faith is automatic and largely irrelevant, or if it has already been shaken, he might have read on, attracted by Notari’s wide reading, his witty, strong prose, and his relentlessly rationalist logic, sometimes reminiscent of MarkTwain.
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