"It's a much longer story than I have time for," he replied.
Gabriel smiled, entertained as much by the story as he was by Cora's visible exasperation.
If you could only read, you might learn that story and enjoy it.
Maybe Sarah was making up a story to cover up for Yancey.
The only other soul she'd touched had told her its life story in a blink of the eye, terrifying her.
Just as this kid's leaving town, she puts this story on you, huh?
His story checked out, and after extensive questioning, the police released him.
Deidre's careful story didn't even make it to her tongue.
But don't you lose heart, Jim, for I'm sure this isn't the end of our story, by any means.
This is the story which Mr. Defoe wrote.
Everything Miss Sullivan taught me she illustrated by a beautiful story or a poem.
While that conjecture made a nice pat story, it didn't answer who was now so concerned with forty-year-old happenings to switch the skeleton, steal a finger bone, offer a substantial price for a virtually worthless mine, and perhaps take a shot at visitors to the Lucky Pup.
"Got time for a long story?" he asked.
The chance of anyone believing the story was practically nil.
Lydia Larkin thought the story was nonsense.
Besides, I'd heard the story in general from my mother all my life—not about Paul's involvement, but Josh the randy miner and teenage Edith.
"But the best part of it is the story which it tells," said their mother.
"But I should like to know the story which this book tells," said Alfred.
Then he began with the first word on the first page and read the first story aloud without making one mistake.
Old story-tellers say that he alighted on the back of a large fish, called a dolphin, which had been charmed by his music and was swimming near the ship.
You may believe the story that you like best.
So he sat down and wrote a wonderful story, which he called "The Adventures of Robinson Crusoe."
What boy or girl has not heard the story of King Robert Brace and the spider?
I will tell you another story of the same brave and famous king.
That night when Christopher went home he had a wonderful story to tell.
You might remember the story of Kyle MacDonald who famously traded up from one red paperclip to a house, one small exchange at a time between July 2005 and July 2006.
The Roman story went on.
In a speech to the House of Representatives at this same time, Congressman Davy Crockett told the story of getting chewed out by a constituent for voting for a $20,000 emergency relief bill for the homeless in a city just wiped out by a fire.
Whether it was the wine he had drunk, or an impulse of frankness, or the thought that this man did not, and never would, know any of those who played a part in his story, or whether it was all these things together, something loosened Pierre's tongue.
Even if Knower #1 taught someone the fact, story, etc., what if Knower #2 didn't remember it?
Then she told me that she had a beautiful story about a little boy which she was sure I should like better than "The Scarlet Letter."
Kutuzov suddenly cried in an agitated voice, evidently picturing vividly to himself from Prince Andrew's story the condition Russia was in.
The ancients have left us model heroic poems in which the heroes furnish the whole interest of the story, and we are still unable to accustom ourselves to the fact that for our epoch histories of that kind are meaningless.
She incoherently described the depths of the forest, her feelings, and a talk with a beekeeper she met, and constantly interrupted her story to say: No, I can't!
"It's a complicated story, you know," said the adjutant.
I must tell you, mon cher," he continued in the sad and measured tones of a man who intends to tell a long story, "that our name is one of the most ancient in France."
And with a Frenchman's easy and naive frankness the captain told Pierre the story of his ancestors, his childhood, youth, and manhood, and all about his relations and his financial and family affairs, "ma pauvre mere" playing of course an important part in the story.
Thus the captain touchingly recounted the story of his love for a fascinating marquise of thirty-five and at the same time for a charming, innocent child of seventeen, daughter of the bewitching marquise.
Listening to the story of the struggle between love and duty, Pierre saw before his eyes every minutest detail of his last meeting with the object of his love at the Sukharev water tower.
Speaking thickly and with a faraway look in his shining eyes, he told the whole story of his life: his marriage, Natasha's love for his best friend, her betrayal of him, and all his own simple relations with her.
More than anything else in Pierre's story the captain was impressed by the fact that Pierre was very rich, had two mansions in Moscow, and that he had abandoned everything and not left the city, but remained there concealing his name and station.
A cornet, hearing the story, informed his commander.