"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times," he quipped to himself.
Was it greedy to want one of their own as well?
He made it all sound so innocent - even noble.
It was possible after all - but was it moral?
Was it a sign from God - or a last chance to change her mind?
It was no small decision for her.
The fire snapped as it grew.
She walked toward it and found the horse tied to a tree and standing motionless, with its head hanging down almost to the ground.
It was the earthquake.
The glass city had several fine streets, for a good many people lived there; but when the procession had passed through these it came upon a broad plain covered with gardens and watered by many pretty brooks that flowed through it.
"How does it taste?" asked the Wizard.
The fish was fat and round, and its scales glistened like beautifully cut jewels set close together; but there was no time to examine it closely, for Eureka made a jump and caught it between her claws, and in a few moments it had entirely disappeared.
By journeying through the glass mountain they had reached a delightful valley that was shaped like the hollow of a great cup, with another rugged mountain showing on the other side of it, and soft and pretty green hills at the ends.
I only hope it wasn't poison.
But since you wish to hear my part, And urge me to begin it, I'll strive for praise with all my heart, Though small the hope to win it.
It was the first money that he had ever had.
Boston is now a great city, but at that time it was only a little town.
He hardly knew how it tasted.
What a big family it was!
The big boy looked at him and blew it again.
Oh, what a pretty sound it made!
It is bigger than movable type.
Let's face it: Futurists as a whole have a pretty poor track record.
This viewpoint seems reasonable because it is largely consistent with our everyday experience of life.
But while this approach is fairly reliable across relatively short spans of time, it is almost always spectacularly wrong when used for longer-range predictions.
Books based on this "wouldn't-it-be-great-if ..." approach to the future are works of pure faith or pure fiction, not of reason.
This third way is based on the principle that it is possible to see the future by accepting discontinuity but not unpredictability.
It seemed as if no one saw that coming because, frankly, no one could conceive of it happening.
When the minister asked him for it, he just remembered that it had been decided to call me after my grandmother, and he gave her name as Helen Adams.
It was the word "water," and I continued to make some sound for that word after all other speech was lost.
They called it acute congestion of the stomach and brain.
Early one morning, however, the fever left me as suddenly and mysteriously as it had come.
But, except for these fleeting memories, if, indeed, they be memories, it all seems very unreal, like a nightmare.
Was it bread that I wanted?
Then I pinned a veil over my head so that it covered my face and fell in folds down to my shoulders, and tied an enormous bustle round my small waist, so that it dangled behind, almost meeting the hem of my skirt.
I see young men, my townsmen, whose misfortune it is to have inherited farms, houses, barns, cattle, and farming tools; for these are more easily acquired than got rid of.
How many a poor immortal soul have I met well-nigh crushed and smothered under its load, creeping down the road of life, pushing before it a barn seventy-five feet by forty, its Augean stables never cleansed, and one hundred acres of land, tillage, mowing, pasture, and woodlot!
The portionless, who struggle with no such unnecessary inherited encumbrances, find it labor enough to subdue and cultivate a few cubic feet of flesh.
Some of you, we all know, are poor, find it hard to live, are sometimes, as it were, gasping for breath.
It is hard to have a Southern overseer; it is worse to have a Northern one; but worst of all when you are the slave-driver of yourself.
When we consider what, to use the words of the catechism, is the chief end of man, and what are the true necessaries and means of life, it appears as if men had deliberately chosen the common mode of living because they preferred it to any other.
It is never too late to give up our prejudices.
It is the cross I have to bear.
And," he went on after a pause, "what will it be in five years, if he goes on like this?"
"Listen, dear Annette," said the prince, suddenly taking Anna Pavlovna's hand and for some reason drawing it downwards.
"It is very good of you, Monsieur Pierre, to come and visit a poor invalid," said Anna Pavlovna, exchanging an alarmed glance with her aunt as she conducted him to her.
"We will talk of it later," said Anna Pavlovna with a smile.
As a clever maitre d'hotel serves up as a specially choice delicacy a piece of meat that no one who had seen it in the kitchen would have cared to eat, so Anna Pavlovna served up to her guests, first the vicomte and then the abbe, as peculiarly choice morsels.
Do tell us all about it, Vicomte," said Anna Pavlovna, with a pleasant feeling that there was something a la Louis XV in the sound of that sentence: "Contez nous cela, Vicomte."