He's gone to heaven now.
He's a lot like his father - in a LOT of ways, but don't tell him that.
And above all," thought Prince Andrew, "one believes in him because he's Russian, despite the novel by Genlis and the French proverbs, and because his voice shook when he said: 'What they have brought us to!' and had a sob in it when he said he would 'make them eat horseflesh!'"
He is also from Austin, and he's in Internet publishing, too.
"Well, he's really a good fellow, one can serve under him," said Timokhin to the subaltern beside him.
He's with the army, Father, at Smolensk.
He's just in from the backwoods.
He's also my Bory's godfather, she added, as if she attached no importance at all to the fact.
He's done her to death.
"No, he's not dead--it's impossible!" she told herself and approached him, and repressing the terror that seized her, she pressed her lips to his cheek.
I guess he's always been a part of me... one I've wasted most of my life trying to remove.
He's gone most of the time, but he doesn't have a job?
He's just another room mate.
I guess he's going to use it in his business.
Ever since Michael discovered that Brandon lives here, he's followed me around like a puppy.
"Why, he's vegetable!" cried the Wizard, astonished.
"No one can love a person he's afraid of," asserted Dorothy.
But this sawhorse can trot as fast as you can, Jim; and he's very wise, too.
He's worrying very much about the new building.
Diablo. He's Yancey's method of relieving stress and getting away from us women once in a while.
Do you think he's involved in something bad?
No, he's just in one of his moods.
"He's coming!" shouted the signaler at that moment.
He's coming! shouted a Cossack standing at the gate.
"He's a creature that wriggles in anywhere!" was the answer.
He's a brave fellow.
He's cook to some prince.
He's irritated, but he probably won't say anything.
Yes Alex, he's ours... yours.
He's staying here with you, isn't he?
I don't know if he's married.
"And they say he's a skillful commander," rejoined Pierre.
That's a tradesman, that is to say, he's the restaurant keeper, Vereshchagin.
But he's a good-for-nothing lad!
How he's grinning, the fat mug!
But he's sucked our blood and now he thinks he's quit of us.
We too will take part..." the reader went on, and then paused ("Do you see," shouted the youth victoriously, "he's going to clear up the whole affair for you...."), "in destroying them, and will send these visitors to the devil.
What men!... and they say he's not the right one....
He's not bad! low voices could be heard saying.
He's a German, but a nice fellow all the same....
But he's a German.
No, he's gone out.