He was respectful of her concerns, but they didn't see eye-to-eye on any of it - except the fact that they both wanted another child.
She slid over, cuddling close to him, her head on his pillow.
He rolled up the newspaper and hit her playfully on the backside as she walked away.
When they finally got on the plane, she and Jonathan had a window seat - Jonathan in front of her.
"Alex tells me you have some nice horses on your ranch," Carmen said to Señor Medena.
He asked her to go back to Houston with him, enticing her with rides on the beach - and love all night.
The expression on Felipa's face reflected both humor and interest.
Getting around in front, so that she could look inside, the girl saw a boy curled up on the seat, fast asleep.
Jumping out of the buggy he put Dorothy's suit-case under the seat and her bird-cage on the floor in front.
I work for Uncle Bill on his ranch, and he pays me six dollars a month and my board.
He was not going very fast, but on his flanks specks of foam began to appear and at times he would tremble like a leaf.
Blackness engulfed them on every side, and in breathless silence they waited for the fall to end and crush them against jagged rocks or for the earth to close in on them again and bury them forever in its dreadful depths.
In an hour the balloon had come near enough for her to see a basket suspended below it; in two hours she could see a head looking over the side of the basket; in three hours the big balloon settled slowly into the great square in which they stood and came to rest on the glass pavement.
People on top of the earth are all meat.
His shoes were covered with mud; he had torn his coat on the thorny tree.
Think of something to write about, and write the word on your slate.
"Well, I know what that is," he said to himself; and he wrote the word _turnip_ on his slate.
Before the half hour was ended he had written a very neat composition on his slate.
Some people said that they were what Henry Longfellow wrote on his slate that day at school.
She boiled it, and boiled it, As long as she was able; Then Mrs. Finney took it, And put it on the table.
On the day that he was seven years old, his mother gave him a few pennies.
They may have missed on specifics (such as each of us owning a personal jet pack and a flying car) but in general were dead-on.
In the end, our fundamental challenge is to become better individuals, and technology offers little help on that front; it is up to each one of us to solve that for ourselves.
Who connected the dots to say that when the inside of the house is cool, people will no longer need to sit outside on their front porch to pass the hot evenings?
Bad science fiction plots, speculating on futures which could not really happen, are the worst examples of this.
These are easy to spot: They rely on huge conceptual leaps without a framework to support them.
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.
A few impressions stand out vividly from the first years of my life; but "the shadows of the prison-house are on the rest."
I was born on June 27, 1880, in Tuscumbia, a little town of northern Alabama.
The family on my father's side is descended from Caspar Keller, a native of Switzerland, who settled in Maryland.
One day some gentlemen called on my mother, and I felt the shutting of the front door and other sounds that indicated their arrival.
On a sudden thought I ran upstairs before any one could stop me, to put on my idea of a company dress.
I could not tell Martha Washington when I wanted to go egg-hunting, but I would double my hands and put them on the ground, which meant something round in the grass, and Martha always understood.
The milkers would let me keep my hands on the cows while they milked, and I often got well switched by the cow for my curiosity.
I trust that none will stretch the seams in putting on the coat, for it may do good service to him whom it fits.
They have got to live a man's life, pushing all these things before them, and get on as well as they can.
What everybody echoes or in silence passes by as true to-day may turn out to be falsehood to-morrow, mere smoke of opinion, which some had trusted for a cloud that would sprinkle fertilizing rain on their fields.
I have lived some thirty years on this planet, and I have yet to hear the first syllable of valuable or even earnest advice from my seniors.
One farmer says to me, "You cannot live on vegetable food solely, for it furnishes nothing to make bones with"; and so he religiously devotes a part of his day to supplying his system with the raw material of bones; walking all the while he talks behind his oxen, which, with vegetable-made bones, jerk him and his lumbering plow along in spite of every obstacle.
According to Evelyn, "the wise Solomon prescribed ordinances for the very distances of trees; and the Roman prÃ¦tors have decided how often you may go into your neighbor's land to gather the acorns which fall on it without trespass, and what share belongs to that neighbor."
How vigilant we are! determined not to live by faith if we can avoid it; all the day long on the alert, at night we unwillingly say our prayers and commit ourselves to uncertainties.
He had just entered, wearing an embroidered court uniform, knee breeches, and shoes, and had stars on his breast and a serene expression on his flat face.
Anna Pavlovna Scherer on the contrary, despite her forty years, overflowed with animation and impulsiveness.
In the midst of a conversation on political matters Anna Pavlovna burst out:
It shall be on your family's behalf that I'll start my apprenticeship as old maid.
Her pretty little upper lip, on which a delicate dark down was just perceptible, was too short for her teeth, but it lifted all the more sweetly, and was especially charming when she occasionally drew it down to meet the lower lip.
The little princess went round the table with quick, short, swaying steps, her workbag on her arm, and gaily spreading out her dress sat down on a sofa near the silver samovar, as if all she was doing was a pleasure to herself and to all around her.
"Mind, Annette, I hope you have not played a wicked trick on me," she added, turning to her hostess.