Now there's a sight I thought I'd never live to see - someone hitching up your wagon while you're fixin' breakfast.
She recognized Jule on sight and couldn't help but feel surprised.
The sight of Darkyn's lean frame was enough for her blood to heat before his piercing gaze caught hers from across the room.
Eureka stuck up her nose at such food, but the tiny piglets squealed delightedly at the sight of the crackers and ate them up in a jiffy.
Dorothy screamed and expected to see a terrible sight; but as the two halves of the Sorcerer fell apart on the floor she saw that he had no bones or blood inside of him at all, and that the place where he was cut looked much like a sliced turnip or potato.
She recognized Damian and Darian as they neared and crept closer to Jule at the sight of the strange man with red glowing eyes.
Here she sat, covered in blood, drugged, one day from being all out crazy, then kidnapped—and the sight of the man before her turned her on.
Jule couldn't help but feel some relief at the sight of a warm, well-lit interior.
That was because I saw everything with the strange, new sight that had come to me.
This sight reminded me of falconry and what nobleness and poetry are associated with that sport.
He served about a dozen years for rape in California and dropped out of sight after he was released.
The sight of such normalcy calmed her, until someone brushed against her.
He waited until he was out of sight of the hotel's cameras before Traveling to Virginia with his magic.
The sight of the knife in her hand still made her squeamish.
It was all they could do, for to go away and leave that strange sight was impossible; nor could they hurry its fall in any way.
I lived, up to the time of the illness that deprived me of my sight and hearing, in a tiny house consisting of a large square room and a small one, in which the servant slept.
Everyone brightened at the sight of this pretty young woman, so soon to become a mother, so full of life and health, and carrying her burden so lightly.
I sank to my knees at the sight of the unmoving figure of Julie O'Malley.
She clamped her mouth shut, unwilling to tell him the sight and scent of blood was already making her want to vomit.
One of her eyes was black from a blow, and the sight infuriated him.
The massive vamp hadn't attacked or turned his back at the first sight of him, a sign Jule took as positive.
Damian rose, sickened by the sight before him.
The thought of his blood lit her afire, almost as much as the sight of his bare chest.
His slain brother's wife had always been a painful sight for him, the reminder of his brother and a happier time before the Schism.
There was a time when he didn't care who he slept with, when he was hard at the sight of any woman who would take him to bed.
The man with mossy eyes turned down a corner and vanished from his sight and thoughts.
Sofia swallowed hard at the sight of so many vamps milling around.
Despite the cool fear spiraling through her, she couldn't help but feel thrilled at the sight of him after she thought she'd lost him.
Damian's throat tightened, and his eyes misted at the sight of his brother.
The next morning, the sight of snow falling outside her window drew her gaze as she packed for the evacuation.
One caught sight of her and stopped.
What struck him most was the sight of a splendid field of oats in which a camp had been pitched and which was being mown down by the soldiers, evidently for fodder.
"Flesh, bodies, cannon fodder!" he thought, and he looked at his own naked body and shuddered, not from cold but from a sense of disgust and horror he did not himself understand, aroused by the sight of that immense number of bodies splashing about in the dirty pond.
"Why should you be God knows where out of sight, during the battle?" he said, exchanging glances with his young companion.
The sight of these bearded peasants at work on the battlefield, with their queer, clumsy boots and perspiring necks, and their shirts opening from the left toward the middle, unfastened, exposing their sunburned collarbones, impressed Pierre more strongly with the solemnity and importance of the moment than anything he had yet seen or heard.
The whole army--French, Italian, German, Polish, and Dutch--hungry, ragged, and weary of the campaign, felt at the sight of an army blocking their road to Moscow that the wine was drawn and must be drunk.
When they heard Napoleon's proclamation offering them, as compensation for mutilation and death, the words of posterity about their having been in the battle before Moscow, they cried "Vive l'Empereur!" just as they had cried "Vive l'Empereur!" at the sight of the portrait of the boy piercing the terrestrial globe with a toy stick, and just as they would have cried "Vive l'Empereur!" at any nonsense that might be told them.
Napoleon walked about in front of his tent, looked at the fires and listened to these sounds, and as he was passing a tall guardsman in a shaggy cap, who was standing sentinel before his tent and had drawn himself up like a black pillar at sight of the Emperor, Napoleon stopped in front of him.
Having descended the hill the general after whom Pierre was galloping turned sharply to the left, and Pierre, losing sight of him, galloped in among some ranks of infantry marching ahead of him.
Before Belliard was out of sight, a messenger from another part of the battlefield galloped up.
Yes, it was the same flesh, the same chair a canon, the sight of which had even then filled him with horror, as by a presentiment.
As if inflamed by the sight, he raised his arm and addressed the people, almost shouting: