The three-story building looked big enough to cover a city block.
They spouted some cock-and-bull story that their mother always wanted them to have the property.
"It's a much longer story than I have time for," he replied.
That's an incredible story, Martha.
The only other soul she'd touched had told her its life story in a blink of the eye, terrifying her.
Maybe Sarah was making up a story to cover up for Yancey.
Just as this kid's leaving town, she puts this story on you, huh?
Lydia Larkin thought the story was nonsense.
Deidre's careful story didn't even make it to her tongue.
Gabriel smiled, entertained as much by the story as he was by Cora's visible exasperation.
But don't you lose heart, Jim, for I'm sure this isn't the end of our story, by any means.
Everything Miss Sullivan taught me she illustrated by a beautiful story or a poem.
'I thought about my story in the autumn, because teacher told me about the autumn leaves while we walked in the woods at Fern Quarry.
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.
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.
His story checked out, and after extensive questioning, the police released him.
"But the best part of it is the story which it tells," said their mother.
If you could only read, you might learn that story and enjoy it.
"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."
This is the story which Mr. Defoe wrote.
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.
Even if Knower #1 taught someone the fact, story, etc., what if Knower #2 didn't remember it?
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.
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.
Though all Ramballe's love stories had the sensual character which Frenchmen regard as the special charm and poetry of love, yet he told his story with such sincere conviction that he alone had experienced and known all the charm of love and he described women so alluringly that Pierre listened to him with curiosity.
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.
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.
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.