There were sparks between them from the start.
There isn't much to tell.
There was shopping and packing to be done before they left on vacation.
Actually, she hadn't thought how it looked to others - and there had never been any doubt in her mind that she was fortunate to have Alex.
There was no way to defend her moral objections without seeding doubt in his mind.
But if you could trust him this way and there was no electricity, would it still be love?
For a minute there I thought you were going to bolt and run.
They began to wonder if there were no people to inhabit this magnificent city of the inner world.
But there were no beds at all.
"Why, there seems to be no night at all in this country," Zeb replied.
There is nothing else that I care about.
The meat was smoking hot and the knives and forks were performing strange antics and jumping here and there in quite a puzzling way.
There are no real horses here at all.
At first the piglet stuck in the neck of the vase and I thought I should get him, after all, but he wriggled himself through and fell down into the deep bottom part--and I suppose he's there yet.
And there was Sirrah standing guard over them and looking all around for help "These must be the lambs that rushed off towards the south," said James Hogg.
There he cared for them with love and kindness; but no word did he speak in their hearing.
There were no balls of fire to be seen now.
He had no pencil, but there was a piece of black charcoal on the hearth.
Daniel and his father would ride there on horseback.
He must stand there until he sees some one else whisper.
Sometimes there is great danger.
There is no reason any of them have to be.
There must be several times that by now.
Has there ever before been a time when business opportunity was more blind to color, gender, or creed?
Because if you come into this library and know with certainty the piece of information you need is in there yet can't find it, then for all intents and purposes, it does not exist.
Even if we all had a robot that went with us everywhere and answered every question anyone put to us, there would still be ignorance in the world.
These are all knowable things, and yet there is not universal agreement on them.
Why are there fewer traffic jams in one certain city than in any other of its size?
There was the usual amount of discussion as to a name for me.
In the still, dark world in which I lived there was no strong sentiment or tenderness.
There were barriers still, it is true, but barriers that could in time be swept away.
But I had a delicious sense that I was doing something unusual and wonderful so I kept on climbing higher and higher, until I reached a little seat which somebody had built there so long ago that it had grown part of the tree itself.
It seemed to me that there could be nothing more beautiful than the sun, whose warmth makes all things grow.
The sun had been under a cloud all day, and there had been brief showers; but suddenly the sun broke forth in all its southern splendour.
The beautiful truth burst upon my mind--I felt that there were invisible lines stretched between my spirit and the spirits of others.
There is no play in them, for this comes after work.
Are we sure that there is none of it in our own lives?
Often if an accident happens to a gentleman's legs, they can be mended; but if a similar accident happens to the legs of his pantaloons, there is no help for it; for he considers, not what is truly respectable, but what is respected.
Our outside and often thin and fanciful clothes are our epidermis, or false skin, which partakes not of our life, and may be stripped off here and there without fatal injury; our thicker garments, constantly worn, are our cellular integument, or cortex; but our shirts are our liber, or true bark, which cannot be removed without girdling and so destroying the man.
As for a Shelter, I will not deny that this is now a necessary of life, though there are instances of men having done without it for long periods in colder countries than this.
There is actually no place in this village for a work of fine art, if any had come down to us, to stand, for our lives, our houses and streets, furnish no proper pedestal for it.
There is not a nail to hang a picture on, nor a shelf to receive the bust of a hero or a saint.
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."
There is in Moscow a lady, une dame, and she is very stingy.
Suddenly there was a great wind.
There, what egotists men all are: all, all egotists!
I am now going to the war, the greatest war there ever was, and I know nothing and am fit for nothing.
When you meet them in society it seems as if there were something in them, but there's nothing, nothing, nothing!
"But what is there to say about me?" said Pierre, his face relaxing into a careless, merry smile.