Soul power rippled through him and with it, the sensation of the invisible shackles he'd worn his entire adult life melting away.
I have worn it only once, but then I felt that Solomon in all his glory was not to be compared with me!
Most of her bedding was worn and made for a double bed.
Aware of his dirty appearance, Xander wiped his hands on his worn breeches.
Either they were all huge enough to come straight out of an action movie, or her drugs had not yet worn off.
Beginning at his dusty oxfords and indigo blue jeans, her scrutiny continued up to a neatly tucked in worn white cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up to mid arm.
Talon hauled her along until he, too, was worn out and she dropped behind both.
In spite of the protective gear worn, the challenge definitely excluded the weak of heart, and, in Dean's estimation, the strong of brain.
Her hair was short and dark and worn in an easy style that seemed to require little care.
With a pair of felt boots on his thin bony legs, and keeping on a worn, nankeen-covered, sheepskin coat, the traveler sat down on the sofa, leaned back his big head with its broad temples and close-cropped hair, and looked at Bezukhov.
For an extra few Euros, the hostel manager gave her a clean though worn sleeping bag that matched the clean but worn bunk beds in the women's section.
Kris pursed his lips, wanting to release the curses coiled on his tongue. He looked her over. She'd at least worn sturdy shoes, long pants and shirt. She was in decent shape, slender and toned from Pilates and the gym.
Breakfast had long since worn off and they were hungry.
The furniture was worn and rustic with wooden frames and upholstered cushions.
The thick wood is not just at our door, nor the pond, but somewhat is always clearing, familiar and worn by us, appropriated and fenced in some way, and reclaimed from Nature.
Speranski, wearing a gray swallow-tail coat with a star on the breast, and evidently still the same waistcoat and high white stock he had worn at the meeting of the Council of State, stood at the table with a beaming countenance.
Following a long drive that consisted of little more than two ruts worn by vehicle tires, they came to the Marsh ranch.
Well-worn furniture populated the homey main room, some no doubt the envy of an antique shop.
With her belly full of his blood and her body worn out by the rough sex, she couldn't remember being more content.
Looking around, she realized her life was filled with nothing but government-issued clothing and a cheap, worn bedspread.
It was the first time she had worn a long dress, but Katie assured her it would make her look taller.
The drive consisted of two tire tracks worn into the grass.
Worn out by sleeplessness and anxiety they threw their burden of sorrow on one another and reproached and disputed with each other.
Both had matched missing buttons on their worn winter coats.
She was still beautiful, even worn down by the life she'd been forced into.
Two were in the cozy living area with its worn furniture.
She crossed to the living room and tucked her legs beneath her as she sat across from him in an oversized, worn chair.
Jessi's breathing was deep; he'd worn her out and had no fear of her waking up with his quiet movements.
The stone beneath her feet was uneven and worn, old.
The horse was an old, worn-out chestnut, with an ill-kept coat, and bones that showed plainly through it; the knees knuckled over, and the forelegs were very unsteady.
How worn and dusty, then, must be the highways of the world, how deep the ruts of tradition and conformity!
While Dean's assailant had not worn gloves, surprisingly, to Dean at least, there were no traceable fingerprints on the weapon.
The leather-like necklace itself contained the stiffness of something new, rather than the well-worn suppleness of the one around her neck.
He was obviously as worn out as Dean, feeling all of his seventy-six years.
She was a no nonsense woman in her thirties, time-worn to a mid-forties look, at best a five-beer take-home from an otherwise empty closing-time bar.
At that moment the flames flared up and showed his young master's pale worn face.
Trying to convict her, he told her she had worn him out, had caused his quarrel with his son, had harbored nasty suspicions of him, making it the object of her life to poison his existence, and he drove her from his study telling her that if she did not go away it was all the same to him.
Denisov blushed like a girl (it was strange to see the color rise in that shaggy, bibulous, time- worn face) and boldly began to expound his plan of cutting the enemy's lines of communication between Smolensk and Vyazma.
To the men of both sides alike, worn out by want of food and rest, it began equally to appear doubtful whether they should continue to slaughter one another; all the faces expressed hesitation, and the question arose in every soul: For what, for whom, must I kill and be killed?...
Nothing's cleared away down there and Vasilich is worn out.
As you see" (he glanced with an amused air and good-natured smile at his coat and boots) "my things are worn out and I have no money, so I was going to ask the count..."
While Mavra Kuzminichna was running to her room the officer walked about the yard gazing at his worn-out boots with lowered head and a faint smile on his lips.