More Sentence Examples
Flying cars, faster cars, more features in cars, we all get that.
Think no more about it, he said.
Do you have more requests?
Alex had been hiding more than a father.
No one could have been more private than Josh.
That's more like it.
She felt that Jim would know more about the Saw-Horse later on.
She'd start feeling more comfortable with the room.
He had indicated enough times that he would like to see her in something a little more feminine and fashionable.
He looked even more distinguished than usual in his Spanish garb.
AdvertisementThe teacher answered, "I know of no man who is more honored than yourself."
In cold weather we eat more, in warm less.
Maybe she has someone more suitable in mind.
It crossed her mind that Alex might be more than uncomfortable in these surroundings.
Alex sat up and leaned over her, speaking softy in a voice that was little more than a whisper.
AdvertisementWe are quite solid inside our bodies, and have no need to eat, any more than does a potato.
A year passed by and then the merchant appeared once more before Al Mansour.
More important - would he stay?
But a lot more complicated for the other two, maybe.
More like Dulce has been talking to me.
AdvertisementThe fact that they were expecting two babies instead of one made it more of a challenge.
You could cover more area that way.
The deeper the feeling, the more he attempted to cover it.
With nothing more to do, she wandered in to watch him shave.
We'll know more about her recovery tomorrow.
AdvertisementYeah, I think it's more like a miniature rodeo.
Maybe he felt more comfortable thinking of it that way.
He had a family to support - and two more children on the way.
No matter what happened, he would always be more than a fond memory - maybe a first love.
Martha shook her head, as if looking for more.
There's more than one but how many?
Once a little fish swam too near the surface, and the kitten grabbed it in her mouth and ate it up as quick as a wink; but Dorothy cautioned her to be careful what she ate in this valley of enchantments, and no more fishes were careless enough to swim within reach.
They advanced in a great swarm, having been joined by many more of their kind, and they flew straight over Jim's head to where the others were standing.
Several stories of empty rooms rewarded their search, but nothing more; so after a time they came back to the platform again.
So let us cease this talk of skull crushing and converse upon more pleasant subjects.
The school was more than a mile from their home, and the children trotted along as fast as their short legs could carry them.
Then, in eighteen more months, it will double again.
Today, that is vastly more true and widespread.
The voice and words belonged to Josh, and yet he had been dead for more than two years.
What could he do about it but lose more sleep?
Now it seemed more like a vacation.
I guess the only thing he wanted more than that was a good woman and children.
She squeezed him once more and then released him.
Nothing more was said about the tear session.
It was so much more fun when she left it all up to him.
From now on she'd have a lot more respect for the art of romancing.
He said he wouldn't offer her any money until he had more facts.
It was intended to encourage her, but it was more a distraction.
Natalie needed little encouragement - or maybe it was because Carmen was a little more relaxed and experienced.
Howard was a good ten years older and had far more important things on his mind – like his new position as partner at the law firm.
Food was more a distraction than a desire.
He shook the newspaper and said nothing more until Sarah announced that supper was ready.
A horse and rider could cover more distance in a day that the mules could pulling the heavy freight wagons.
He pretended he needed time to make a few more phone calls but I could see he was disappointed by the delay.
As he had once said, he was a man of his word and he made no more advances.
More importantly, what would he say when she returned?
More important, why hadn't Connie responded to her letter?
We'll have to do this more often.
Maybe Yancey would be more careful in the future about using the threat of bears as a method of keeping Lisa away from that building.
It's our home and you're more than a sitter or maid to all of us.
Have you discovered anything more about him yet?
It sounded more like something a woman would think of.
It was a soft kiss, not demanding but more inquisitive.
The encounter had frightened him more than he would admit.
He was dead on when he said she was more afraid of her emotions than him.
Maybe he had more information he didn't want to give over the phone with Yancey listening.
So I've finally found something you're afraid of more than me.
More likely it stemmed from the fact that she had not gone to the house yet.
It was several more minutes before she was able to take deep breaths – even longer before she was able to utter more than a strangled sound.
His kiss was more than friendly.
Now she wanted it more than life itself.
The building she had spent more than a month trying to get into and now was the site of an open house.
The three of them walked abreast along a narrow road consisting of no more than two bare strips of dirt in the grass.
Lisa seemed to fear him more than she did Giddon.
Each case I handle gives me that much more experience.
There was no denying that Brandon was a private person - or that he had confided in her more than Rachel or Julia.
It can't be any more dangerous than driving around in Tulsa.
And burn more calories.
The gray eyes held a glint of something more than humor, but his lips twisted into a satirical smile.
It was something more unsettling than friendship.
She couldn't have been more awake before she left the house.
Did he suspect that she was beginning to feel more for him than simple friendship?
He deserved more than the sympathetic ear she had been lending him lately.
Her erotic dreams were proof that he was becoming more than a friend to her, and that thought was troubling - both from the standpoint of her goals, and the fact that she was setting herself up for rejection.
The minute he detected something more than a platonic relationship, it was going to be good-by friendship.
It was beautiful in winter, but it would be much more so when the trees gained color.
Following a long drive that consisted of little more than two ruts worn by vehicle tires, they came to the Marsh ranch.
He brought three more bags while she spread the woodchips around the monument.
Puzzled, she concentrated on two more sources of magic.
Yully let the power fill her and mix with the other energies, staving off panic that there was much more than she could ever control.
Darian didn't remember it any more than he remembered much of the thousands of years he spend enslaved by Jonny's predecessor.
If not for Yully's fading energy, Jule would've stayed to make sure Damian's version of chat resembled his and not Dusty's, who was more likely to shoot first and discuss later.
Xander seemed like nothing more than a bored guest.
There was more to Xander than Damian could pinpoint.
Twist your hip more when you hit with the left.
A few more punches, and she grew too uncomfortable with him to continue.
After her conversation with Xander, she couldn't help wondering if there was something more that made Darian seek her out or made her willing to humor him.
She lacked Jake's golden tongue, and her bluntness had gotten her in trouble more than once.
Nothing more, she told herself.
She fled, staggering as she bumped into more people and more visions flashed.
Of the two, Dusty was more likely to call him to the floor when he crossed into his business.
The quarterly conference held four times a century with the highest ranking station commanders was coming up soon, and he had more pressing issues to resolve before it launched.
Damian mulled his words, waiting for more.
There was a warning note in his voice that made her more uncomfortable.
Her body was beginning to ache more, from her battered hands to her bruised cheek from when she'd fallen after fainting the night before.
Or more than one, Dusty typed.
You've got more than one rat to worry about.
When someone gives me some more definitive info on her, I'll tell you.
By his tone, something was more wrong than the horrible costume.
Several more men entered the library, all staring at her in nothing short of total surprise.
He was built from the same mold—large and muscular, the kind of man more fitted to military special forces or UFC prizefighting than financial planning.
Seeing him well rested and well dressed pissed her off even more.
Damian felt the unusual urge to look in on her again, to feel her soft skin against him once more and make sure she was safe.
To maintain our operations, three more.
What's the impact if we have to burn more?
In fact, she did see him in those positions, and in many more.
She pulled her knees to her chest, feeling small and vulnerable once more.
He rattled off more rules, and she listened without registering any of them.
Sofia retreated to her room, not wanting to fight more with Jake.
His visions were more than just his death; they were the first-person experience of the torturing and killing of many, many others, as if she were mutilating others.
He led her down the stairs into a basement that looked more like a dungeon.
The more noise you make, the worse I make it for you.
He ducked into a doorway while Damian shot two more vamps and reappeared, the blueprints on the screen.
She cried until she was too tired to cry more and drifted into a vision, reliving the few moments she spent with Jilian.
She closed her eyes, more of his home videos playing through her mind.
She rubbed her temples and issued a challenging glare to the contents of the pantry, furious once more she could eat none of the wonderful things it held.
He sliced his forearm and tucked the knife beneath his pillow once more, closing his eyes.
His blood boiled more at the memories that pricked his mind.
You're more welcome in my bed than she is!
She shook out the sexual energy running through her and turned on a light, not wanting to be alone in the dark while the dead man in her thoughts began to sob once more.
So once more, Sofia had tried to eat.
The last thing I need is to complicate things more.
There was one person she wanted to know more about.
Something more than Dusty killing bad guys was upsetting her.
Damian caught his eye and looked pointedly at Dusty, silently asking if the Guardian had done as he asked and told his boss that the Natural was more than a new recruit.
I need more people, boss, or a Traveler at least.
We had three in the last class, more than we've seen in a few hundred years.
He cared for Claire, or at least, he was attracted to her, and she didn't know if there was more than what she knew about them.
A few of the guests cast curious looks her way, and everyone who looked at her seemed more interested in the plain charm at her chest than in meeting her gaze.
Dusty was a stickler for formality from his men, while Jule's hemisphere was far more relaxed.
The other two were too occupied by whatever happened to do more than glance at the newcomer.
So she stayed put and hugged herself more tightly.
His gaze was stormy, but there was more there, a profound sadness that made the large man more human.
She didn't want to see more death.
She's in the early stages of pregnancy, no more than eight weeks.
Sofia asked with more emotion than she intended.
His gaze was wary and moving, and he was guarded once more.
While she couldn't shake the sense of doom that followed her from the visions, she felt more normal, less afraid, at the thought that she'd be rejoining the rest of humanity for a shopping trip with the girls, even if only for a morning.
He wasn't like Dustin, who seemed more likely to kill a stranger than talk to one.
She ached to touch him but refused, hugging herself more tightly instead.
I'm not wasting any more of my time in there.
Linda was too easygoing to be affected by much of anything, and the men seemed more surprised than anything else.
Are there more of us?
She felt more compelled to him now than ever before.
He offered his wrist, and she knew he was offering much more.
She was more grateful to him in that moment than she'd ever been.
She didn't know if he'd welcome the gift or if his recent ordeal left him more jaded toward his past.
In a few minutes, they were strolling through the mall once more.
He was the kind of man she wouldn't think twice about running from, though the intelligence gleaming in his soulful brown eyes gave him away as something more.
She wasn't sure what she could do to be more boring.
He said no more, and she lost the nerve to pursue.
He trusted Sofia to either of the two men before him and knew Dusty was the more likely of the two to shoot first and ask questions later if she was threatened.
Damian dropped to the floor with a roar, his eyes blurring as more fire and liquid tore through him.
The adobe structure was guarded by several more Guardians, none of whom looked like Damian from the distance.
Renewed by the blood, more sobs wracked her body as she thought of Damian and how badly she'd destroyed any plan Dustin or Jule could make.
Every step he took brought more memories of people and places he felt to his core he knew – but couldn't recognize.
They passed through two more doors before exiting into a cold desert night on the side of a mountain, overlooking the activity at the elevator's entrance.
A dark shape moved from the rocks while three more fanned out from the sides.
Pierre grimaced and rose more slowly.
Two armored Tahoes sat out front with an additional two more well-armed Guardians.
Just when he'd thought Sofia couldn't surprise him more, she did.
He was more and more appalled by the memories afflicting his brother, what he'd gone through since his supposed death.
Darian was showing more signs of life.
Damian's feelings for her swelled even more.
He wore nothing more than a T-shirt and jeans.
She reached a stairwell and descended to a floor with wider, taller corridors, as if she'd gone from the wing with private chambers to a more public area.
Her first deal was made more out of emotion than anything else.
There was no way she was going to learn more.
Something jarred her, a flash of magic, one that made her more nauseous than what she saw happen next.
Was what she felt for Gabriel nothing more than destiny and Immortal laws she knew nothing about?
His nose bore the appearance of having been broken and set incorrectly more than once.
His fangs were long, his eyes burning with more than hunger.
A few more days, and even I wouldn't have been able to undo what Wynn did.
Instinctively, she flattened her palm against his chest once more to feel his heartbeat.
The pain faded once more, and the experience became too dreamlike to be real.
She pulled more of him into her, trying to identify the elusive flavor that left her intoxicated.
Gabriel had been, and she was furious at herself for not taking him more seriously and for choosing to accept Darkyn's deal instead of taking a chance with Gabriel.
The scars the Dark One created when he turned her Immortal were more faded today than yesterday.
She sensed more than saw the largest difference within her.
Deidre closed the door, near tears once more.
She had to make it only a few more days.
He was amused at whatever game he played as he closed the distance between them once more.
He reached for her once more, and she slapped his hand away.
He nudged her head once more.
Deidre took his face in her hands, hungrily trying to taste more of him as she explored his mouth with fervor.
His chilling smile did nothing to make his statement more tolerable.
More tears squeezed from her eyes.
I love a fight and an absolute victory even more, he replied.
She shook her head, emotions stirring one more.
She wanted to slap him, more because he was making it obvious how right Darkyn was.
It's more of a cluttered box than a web.
Yours is more so.
She glanced back over her shoulder to see Darkyn standing where she left him, hands clasped behind his back, watching her with the cold smile that told her there was more going on than she suspected.
The bond creates more than dependency; it gives you a helluva lot of influence over him.
She started to shake, unable to bear the idea of more children dying or living with the creature behind it.
There will be no more attacks on human schools.
She pushed his chin aside with more force and kissed his neck before closing her eyes and letting her fangs sink into him.
The humans mean more to you than they do to me.
He sounded pleased once more.
The demon lord gripped her more tightly and wrapped her in his arms.
Darkyn himself had shown some signs of being affected by her, perhaps not as much as she liked, but more than she ever expected.
The footsteps were soft, but it sounded like more than one person.
Unless more than Harmony had betrayed Gabriel.
She could summon Darkyn, though she feared his reaction to her leaving more than what these people would do to her.
Gabriel asked, looking at her once more.
He caught her wrists and pinned them behind her, more interested in feeding.
Darkyn drank more from her than before, leaving her lightheaded.
He sat, his warmth surrounding her once more.
If he was half as creative at torturing people and planning his battles as he was in bed, he was more than capable of doing it.
He leaned forward to kiss her once more, his fangs fully extended.
He hesitated once more but took it.
Selyn's squawked once more and pointed.
The Dark One is the most powerful, and he grows more so, as the population of the worlds increase.
More words leapt from the page.
She feared seeing them happy again, knowing she really was nothing more than a disposable stand-in until they were able to be together again.
Hearing it out loud only made her more confused.
There's more to the story than what you know.
I saw how you were created from a seventeen-year-old boy who wanted nothing more than for your mistress to love you.
No more men like Wynn killing me slowly.
It's more than fear.
He crossed his arms, wary once more.
One might argue that manipulating the Future and unfettered access to the present provides more than enough influence.
The strange calm she felt around Zamon remained, and she recalled more clearly Darkyn's words about how the original Dark One lured in his prey.
There were days when she wished she was more like him, capable of great evil.
I can't imagine the impact of both on him when one is more than enough.
Deidre kept her thoughts to herself, growing more distressed with the visit.
Past-Death waited for her to say more.
But I see more.
When he said no more, she smiled slightly.
Her hope had been crushed in every other way – except that it stirred once more at the idea there was more to him than she knew.
Though she doubted he was capable of emotions like she was, he was capable of more than he claimed, too.
We are not capable of more, he added.
I know there was more to why she sought me out but I don't understand what.
The light of the black fire was too dim for her to see much more than the outline of his form.
This time, there was more than insatiable lust and need in his kiss.
Deidre felt tears on her cheeks once more.
As much as it didn't make sense, as much as his day job terrified her … She wanted Darkyn, more so now that she knew he had a side – however tiny – that was capable of caring for her and only her.
Maybe because it made her stay here feel more permanent.
Selyn nodded once more.
Deidre gripped Selyn's arm more tightly, fear spiraling through her.
The response was more of a grunt.
The growl low in her chest sounded more like a rattle.
All I see is rock and more rock.
She called out, louder and more frantically this time, her voice echoing against the rock.
The sixty days came and went but Janet never returned, leaving jail, a few more bad checks, and Colorado for parts unknown.
Martha, whose stay with them was at first a simple good deed, then a delight and now so very much more.
David and Cynthia Dean had experienced little success in trying to secure a more formal arrangement for long term custody of Martha, managing only undocumented assignment as temporary foster parents.
She deserves more—much more, and I truly believe we could provide it.
What's more, none seemed bent on murder, a decided improvement over some of Bird Song's earlier guests!
People did things differently—spanking was more acceptable then, but now we know hitting causes anger and rebellion.
The pair spent the balance of the morning emptying the washing machine and dryer, only to fill them with never-ending loads, while in between clearing dishes, brewing more coffee, and playing the jovial innkeepers.
He bit into more pastry.
Dean grabbed the near-empty plate, salvaging the few remaining morsels while Pumpkin was searching for more empty pockets to fill as he rose to leave.
Just drive more slowly until August.
It would cost more than seven dollars to have them dry cleaned and pressed.
She acts more sorry for the woman, or exasperated, than afraid of her.
But if there's more on your mind, maybe it's something we can help you with.
But the brief exercise failed to dispel the glumness for more than a few moments.
You've got more time on your hands than an unemployed whaler.
It's more than that.
Dean held his wife closely, expecting more tears, but they didn't come.
They knew there was little more they could do or say to console the lonely child.
Even the usually bored Dawkinses ooh-ed and aah-ed appropriately but the brothers seemed more interested in the locale of the various shots than the scenery and flora so beautifully presented.
I tried to make a photographer out of my godson Billy, but I'm afraid at his age there are a lot more interesting things to do, and they all have female names.
It seems more like days than hours.
Fred displayed a tad more interest in the mysterious find than the prior evening.
Randy continued to talk, more rapidly than necessary, mentioning a small wedding.
Dean could do little more than put his arm around her.
Dean was feeling more comfortable that Cynthia just needed time to get her priorities in line.
Ridgway, a few more miles away from the backdrop of mountains, provided a spectacular view.
Cynthia didn't ask him to join her and he was more than happy to remain rocking a groove in the front porch decking.
Silly David Dean for thinking more time might be needed to put all these pesky details to rest.
Shouldn't we do more about the campaign?
But I'm glad you seem more comfortable about running for office.
I've chased more bad guys running Bird Song bed and breakfast than when I was a Parkside, Pennsylvania police detective.
Even the cat looked up, more from the cessation of her patting than Dean's expletive.
He'd traveled that road before, more than once.
He was a handsome kid who somehow reminded Dean of Cynthia's son, Randy, but more brash.
The chitchat roamed from details of Friday's luncheon to views on crime and punishment, which, as the booze went down, became more and more general.
I figured this county deserves a more astute sheriff than the current candidate, so I tossed my hat in the ring this morning.
The Deans and Fred were torn between discussing Fitzgerald's blockbuster announcement and this conversation, which was becoming more interesting by the minute.
It certainly does nothing to make the skeleton look more realistic.
I'm not sure why, but I do feel more comfortable.
I know I should be upset that Fitzgerald is running against you but I know his being in the race makes you want to run all the more.
At least we're taking some action, and we're doing it together—that makes me feel more secure.
The couple was hoping to get on the road ahead of one or more of the feuding Dawkinses, who might be moseying to the same destination.
However, they needed more supplies—additional batteries, a second flashlight, and marking chalk—all to be purchased at the variety store, which didn't open until eight o'clock.
The others, when not lingering over coffee, were peeking in the kitchen for more pastries.
To Dean, the tunnel was even more claustrophobic as he hunched forward, taking baby steps like a second grade schoolyard game.
Two more turns were negotiated and marked and in spite of their slow progress, according to the map they were nearing their goal.
They stood there, hearts even more accelerated, pounding in unison.
The passageway continued beyond where Martha had ventured and the Deans continued another hundred yards but once more the passageway forked.
They moved more quickly, retracing their steps toward the entrance.
When their breath returned to a more normal cadence and they were no longer perspiring, they rose to leave.
Maybe, but he strikes me as a more direct type—not someone who'd pull off a stunt like that.
More than enough, but once we reach the main Jeep road we're sure to see someone.
While Dean discounted hooligans as the source of his vandalism, he was more than happy to accept Brandon Westlake's timely rescue.
Westlake twisted around the seat once more and after a struggle pulled out an old step pump.
After receiving their thanks, he took off at a jog, anxious, he said, to catch a few more post-storm shots as the sun emerged.
No other vehicles were encountered—the storm apparently frightened away the more faint-at-heart tourists.
The two drinks and lack of a third caused him to be more direct than normal politeness would dictate.
It looks like a hole in the ground that hasn't been touched in thirty years or more.
Dean resolved to try once more in the morning to get word to her.
A phone call excused him from hearing more of the robust bragging.
As long as he was on a roll, albeit a limited one, Dean had one more errand.
There were several more trunks in evidence.
Once you've got the bug, you'd no more pass up a good bargain than a cold beer on a hot day.
He asked, just to toss a little more chum in the water, "What happened to your mother?"
Joseph was ready to end the conversation but Dean was hoping for more fish in his creel.
Or, more intriguingly, perhaps one of the auction's bargain foot lockers contained the remains of the actual skeleton!
In addition to the five we bought, there were five or six—maybe seven more.
In the eyes of the Deans, it was looking more and more as if person or persons unknown did in fact take the original bones and switch them for the theatrical imitations Fitzgerald dragged out of The Lucky Pup mine.
The Deans found themselves alone on the front porch, with only Mrs. Lincoln for company, as Fred was off to the library for more research.
The question of who was responsible for Josh-the-skeleton coming to his untimely demise was even more obscure.
Yes, Dean thought, unless someone decides to get more serious about stopping us.
I kicked in more coins to our marriage than Paul ever did.
She seemed more genuinely shocked than irate.
Dean was more than just surprised by her request.
The entire town wouldn't have been more excited if the New Year's Rose Parade had come to little Ouray.
While the walk was less than a half-mile, Ouray's 7,800-foot elevation and the uphill rise caused Dean to quicken his breathing—one more reminder to get in shape.
There's more on the back seat.
I'm overwhelmed—couldn't have asked for more.
But the fact that some present-day person was trying to stop them from finding any answers somehow made the mystery more intriguing.
Besides, Dean thought, Randy—single or married—probably has more sense than to get knocked on his ass by a zillion pounds of water pressure aimed at his body.
The closer they drew, the more intense the pressure, and the more unstable they became.
The couple changed into shorts and boots, more satisfactory attire for their mountain drive with Jennifer Radisson.
More importantly, Dean now realized that the only real evidence that the remains from the mine were human had disappeared.
No, I think it's more.
Jennifer began snapping her small camera at the first vista until she realized she'd used more than half the roll.
The road continued to climb at a seemingly impossible grade, more rugged now with jagged rocks littering the uneven way.
The group left the Jeep and spent more than an hour on foot with Cynthia taking infinite care with each of her photos.
Jennifer, forced to husband her limited shots, took more time with hers as well.
The escape was less than stealthy, and it was impossible to tell if there was more than one pair of feet.
After they were settled in the vehicle and on their way back to town, Jennifer Radisson brought up the more mundane subjects of the mine and her litigation.
Jennifer said nothing more for the remainder of the trip down the mountain until the Jeep finally rolled onto pavement and they entered the still busy town.
When the phone rang for the fourth time, Dean assumed it was either a call for reservations or more discussion on the upcoming New Jersey wedding plans, but Cynthia held the phone against herself and called to her husband.
It will be light for a couple more hours at least.
Once is more than enough.