A black cloud seemed to cover the earth.
You seemed to be doing well enough on your own.
Everything seemed clearer, as though she had come out of a fog.
That seemed unlikely, though.
Señor Medena was watching Alex thoughtfully, but Alex seemed to be unaware of his attention.
Now it seemed more like a vacation.
I remember because you seemed so sincere.
After what seemed like a short wait, they boarded another plane.
She seemed to promise to explain that necessity to him when he came on Tuesday.
Here and there were groups of houses that seemed made of clear glass, because they sparkled so brightly.
No one now seemed to pay any attention to the strangers, so Dorothy and Zeb and the Wizard let the train pass on and then wandered by themselves into the vegetable gardens.
It seemed to Rostov that Bogdanich was only pretending not to notice him, and that his whole aim now was to test the cadet's courage, so he drew himself up and looked around him merrily; then it seemed to him that Bogdanich rode so near in order to show him his courage.
It seemed unlikely that Señor Medena would invite Tessa.
Neither of the children seemed concerned about the flight, though.
The little Princess seemed fresh and rosy and in good spirits.
She was silent and seemed confused.
He seized his son by the hand with small bony fingers, shook it, looked straight into his son's face with keen eyes which seemed to see through him, and again laughed his frigid laugh.
"If anyone finds this silence inconvenient, let him talk, but I don't want to," he seemed to say.
The old prince and his son seemed to have changed roles since the campaign of 1805.
He had seemed amused by her modesty in the past, and yet it had obviously troubled him.
Where was the sweet, gentle Brandon who never seemed to be upset by anything?
All the men seemed amused when they saw the boy, and as they rode up, they greeted the king by taking off their hats.
Since his current office was directly across from their bedroom, it seemed a better place for babies that Alex said could be born early.
Sarah and Giddon both seemed content with the arrangement, but she felt guilty about the money she earned... or didn't earn.
He seemed to feel quite well and strong.
You sure seemed like a willing participant for a while there.
Alex seemed to be more comfortable around Morino than he was around his father's family.
It seemed like hours in the emergency room before the diagnosis.
He seemed sincere, but it could have been an act.
First he spun her round, holding her now with his left, now with his right hand, then falling on one knee he twirled her round him, and again jumping up, dashed so impetuously forward that it seemed as if he would rush through the whole suite of rooms without drawing breath, and then he suddenly stopped and performed some new and unexpected steps.
He seemed to emphasize the last word, as if to say--Yes, misfortune!
Mademoiselle Bourienne, too, seemed passionately fond of the boy, and Princess Mary often deprived herself to give her friend the pleasure of dandling the little angel--as she called her nephew--and playing with him.
She could count his ribs easily where they showed through the skin of his body, and his head was long and seemed altogether too big for him, as if it did not fit.
The old princess sighed sadly as she offered some wine to the old lady next to her and glanced angrily at her daughter, and her sigh seemed to say: "Yes, there's nothing left for you and me but to sip sweet wine, my dear, now that the time has come for these young ones to be thus boldly, provocatively happy."
Dorothy had a green streak through the center of her face where the blue and yellow lights came together, and her appearance seemed to add to his fright.
"My dear," he heard what seemed to him her despairing whisper behind him.
Strange, it had never seemed lonely here before.
As soon as he closed his eyes his ears seemed filled with the rattle of the wheels and the sensation of victory.
Lisa seemed to fear him more than she did Giddon.
Alondra and Felipa were watching her intently, and even Señor Medena seemed to be interested in what their life was like at home.
After what seemed like hours of traveling down trails that were little more than rockslides, Giddon stopped the ATV and shut off the engine.
Looking at their boots he several times shook his head sadly, pointing them out to the Austrian general with an expression which seemed to say that he was not blaming anyone, but could not help noticing what a bad state of things it was.
Sometimes she would stop crying for a while, and it seemed that she was gaining control.
It seemed as if every man in the country was after them.
Somehow it seemed contrary to his character - any of them.
It would have been humiliating if anyone had noticed, but no one seemed to pay much attention – probably because so many others were also drinking.
Both he and his mother seemed well informed and intelligent.
He could see a green open space just beyond; and then the woods seemed to be thicker and darker.
So he painted a beautiful picture which seemed to be covered with a curtain.
That seemed to be something new.
At times he seemed on the verge of revealing it to Adrienne, only to draw back into himself and avoid her for days.
The buggy seemed almost new, for it had a shiny top and side curtains.
Everything visible was made of wood, and the scene seemed stiff and extremely unnatural.
By the midpoint of the twentieth century, America's dreamers were preoccupied with the future—and not just any old future, but the great and glorious future that seemed inevitable.
As is always the case with a thoroughly attractive woman, her defect--the shortness of her upper lip and her half-open mouth--seemed to be her own special and peculiar form of beauty.
It seemed like only a few seconds before the uncomfortable feeling became nausea.
What felt comfortable only moments ago now seemed bold and foolish.
Alex had invited her to look at his financial files any time she wanted, and yet it seemed an intrusion on his privacy.
Sleep seemed unlikely, but it must have happened shortly after her head hit the pillow.
Beside his problems, hers seemed trivial.
He seemed oblivious to anyone else in the house as he carried her down the hallway to her room.
Somehow it seemed such a small thing now.
Still, admitting to any attraction seemed folly.
Something about her feet hitting the floor in the morning seemed to trigger her stomach.
The town seemed very still; but now and then he could hear the beating of a drum or the shouting of some soldier.
She sat in my mother's lap constantly, where I used to sit, and seemed to take up all her care and time.
One day something happened which seemed to me to be adding insult to injury.
We lived a long way from any school for the blind or the deaf, and it seemed unlikely that any one would come to such an out-of-the-way place as Tuscumbia to teach a child who was both deaf and blind.
Everything I touched seemed to quiver with life.
The tenant of the air, it seemed related to the earth but by an egg hatched some time in the crevice of a crag;--or was its native nest made in the angle of a cloud, woven of the rainbow's trimmings and the sunset sky, and lined with some soft midsummer haze caught up from earth?
So far, she seemed to be his best source of information, anyway.
It seemed that she had barely dropped off to sleep, before someone was pounding on her door.
The little man looked toward her and seemed as much surprised as she was.
"Oh, there is no need of that," said the voice, which from its gentle tones seemed to belong to a young girl.
A few said that there was one man in their neighborhood who seemed to have had some sort of good luck.
Sometimes they became infected with other illnesses, and variolation seemed to start entirely new epidemics.
Oddly, it still seemed reasonable even as we coasted through three red lights to get home.
Our little boat confronted the gale fearlessly; with sails spread and ropes taut, she seemed to sit upon the wind.
Here the conversation seemed interesting and he stood waiting for an opportunity to express his own views, as young people are fond of doing.
Carmen glanced around the table, but everyone seemed to be more amused than disturbed... everyone but Señor Medena.
At first it seemed as though nothing was happening.
It couldn't have been more than a few seconds, but it seemed much longer.
Maybe it was the emotional high they were feeling because of the babies, but something seemed to have shifted their foundation.
You seemed to be enjoying it when I carried you across the creek.
He seemed comfortable with his surroundings, which was surprising in itself.
Lately he had seemed discontented.
When Dorothy gently touched her nose and ears and lips they seemed to be well and delicately formed.
However, the Wizard went once more to his satchel--which seemed to contain a surprising variety of odds and ends--and brought out a spool of strong wire, by means of which they managed to fasten four of the wings to Jim's harness, two near his head and two near his tail.
The slim, tall boy seemed to grow taller, as he answered, "I'll not be the servant of any Englishman that ever lived."
But he threw it upon his shoulders and seemed well satisfied.
He was always hearing such words as: "With your remarkable kindness," or, "With your excellent heart," "You are yourself so honorable Count," or, "Were he as clever as you," and so on, till he began sincerely to believe in his own exceptional kindness and extraordinary intelligence, the more so as in the depth of his heart it had always seemed to him that he really was very kind and intelligent.
His looks and cold tone to his daughter seemed to say: There, you see?
He himself seemed aware that his demand was meaningless.
But the noise and clatter seemed as dreadful to them as Jim's heels, for all who were able swiftly turned and flew away to a great distance.
On the river, however, the adventurers seemed to be perfectly safe.
Brandon didn't act much different at the apartment, but he always seemed to end up in the chair beside her at the table.
There seemed to be no way to escape the anger of this furious man.
Life without Princess Mary, little as he seemed to value her, was unthinkable to him.
He stopped thinking about the past and his gaze seemed to come to the present.
Life was empty without him and no one seemed to be anxious to replace him - especially her parents.
Bordeaux seemed to be at a loss for words.
She was exhausted but sleep seemed unlikely.
Of the others, only Pete seemed to be paying any attention to their peril.
She rolled over and glanced at Bordeaux, who seemed to be resting comfortably.
It seemed unlikely that he would travel so many miles to get her, and then give up.
Her legs felt like posts, but she drug one foot in front of another until the ground under her feet seemed to change.
After what seemed like hours, but probably wasn't more than thirty minutes in the hot sun, Bordeaux stood.
In fact, he seemed pleased.
Even Bordeaux seemed to be in good spirits.
Chauncey seemed so sure...
It all seemed to be tailor made to her preferences - all but the part about staying alone in the house with him.
Of course, Mr. Cade hardly seemed the seductive type and she certainly wasn't going to encourage it.
But then, they seemed to remember everything - probably because they kept it revived for entertainment.
Where Russell Cade was concerned, the only thing they seemed to have against him was the fact that he provided them no new topics.
Handing out compliments seemed to be out of character for him, but hadn't he always been honest and direct?
You seemed pretty sure of yourself a while ago.
It seemed totally out of character.
Somehow the latter seemed more likely with Cade.
During and after supper, conversation seemed to continually migrate back to Cynthia.
People always wanted what seemed unobtainable.
Maybe that was why Mary seemed so concerned that she would become romantically involved with Cade.
Anyway, it seemed like innocent flirtation.
When only silence followed, she seemed to feel obligated to explain.
She seemed satisfied and fell asleep at once.
Quinn seemed relieved no one was blaming him or his experiments.
Thankfully, he seemed relaxed.
There was no shadow or footprints even though I seemed to be standing on grass.
It seemed to me we were all on edge, especially Howie who, aside from a smile and a few words, stayed out of our limited conversations.
Only Quinn seemed pleased with that result but when we tried to question him about it he refused to discuss the matter.
He seemed to quiver at the suggestion.
Even Quinn seemed to have forgotten his desire to go public in the tension of our impromptu to act.
Yet, in spite of the obstacles, it seemed utterly sinful to ignore the potential.
Cooms doted on the boy who seemed to return his affection.
Quinn seemed to ponder the matter.
I told her Howie hadn't yet arrived at the office, but she seemed to know.
They seemed to truly care for each other.
Claire seemed pleased to be held by anyone, at least most of the time, but on occasion she'd let out a scream, loud enough to shake Howie from the past in spite of his near-soundproof basement room.
It seemed to me that my wife's brief but profound statement put all else in prospective.
The child was shy, but seemed excited in a subdued way by the new surroundings.
She seemed nervous and her open smile was less in evidence, unless speaking of her daughter.
Betsy didn't answer but she seemed at least partially placated by what was, at best, a half-truth.
Denying it seemed fruitless yet I couldn't bring myself to confirm what she was saying.
When I first met Howie in class I thought he was just this lonely guy but he seemed nice and we had coffee a time of two.
She seemed untroubled that her best friend tried to seduce her husband.
Molly seemed mollified, excuse the alliteration.
It wasn't the open road wanderers I envied but the home town golfers; they seemed so content in their pastoral surroundings.
It sure seemed like it at the time.
She seemed to understand and was off to walk Bumpus while I filled in Betsy on my conversation.
People at the memorial service had contradictory stories and when Howie pressed them, no one seemed to have any real facts.
Three facilities were in nearby Swanzy; a town where we'd considered buying a home what seemed like years, not months, ago.
He seemed eager to talk all night.
All that business seemed months, not just weeks, ago.
The detective seemed unconvinced until I told him John Luke Grasso wanted something from my friend and he might have contacted him.
It seemed hours I was left alone until shouting voices announced the end of our ordeal.
While the last words, "sleeping, just sleeping," said prior to the interruption by Grasso seemed to denote failure, the earlier recorded observations suggest otherwise.
His eyes seemed to swirl, around and around, changing from the color of her mother's tulips to a color almost as dark as the night.
She stared at her brother, who seemed unaware of where he was or what he did.
The sheets were so fine and light they seemed to melt against her skin.
He seemed done with his interrogation of her, and she looked at him.
He was tall and lanky with a huge smile and close-spaced eyes that seemed more soulful than his youthful looks warranted.
He seemed the most approachable of everyone she'd met.
Such a normal thing seemed … weird.
She'd always been grateful to him for accepting her and her gift, but he'd always refused to tell her what exactly he was and how he seemed to be able to read her mind sometimes.
Accustomed to being shunned by people, she'd almost felt normal around the stranger who seemed unaffected by her magic.
She met his gaze again, caught in the dark eyes that seemed both warm and wary.
He kicked himself mentally for not thinking before he made any sort of pact with the Watcher, even one that seemed so straightforward, until he met his target and realized she was an innocent caught in the crossfire.
His senses tingled, and he dwelled on how his defensive powers almost seemed to work when nothing else did.
Light and dark seemed to bend to avoid him, leaving a haze around his body.
The instincts that warned her Jonny wasn't as naïve as he seemed were confirmed when she stepped into the gym and saw Xander standing in the doorway, watching her.
It seemed like too long already, especially since the woman was alone to protect herself.
It seemed too real, and he'd dwelled long on what he could remember of the conversation.
"It seemed right," she said at last.
It only seemed natural for them to sit next to each other, and what would feel more natural would probably scare her off.
Their lovemaking seemed to cement what was between them.
If he was what everyone seemed to think he was, he didn't need them.
The Original Being was impossible to track with his senses and seemed to fade in and out of existence.
Xander had seemed curious, the opposite of what Jule expected from the father to the creatures Jule regularly killed.
His body seemed too weak to contain his newfound power.
Xander seemed like nothing more than a bored guest.
As she stared, the silver seemed to flare into a deep glow and swirl around her irises like cars around a racetrack.
One was of medium height and slender, an older man with sharp green eyes the color of forest moss who seemed out of place in the middle of the room.
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.
He wasn't like Dustin, who seemed more likely to kill a stranger than talk to one.
Linda was too easygoing to be affected by much of anything, and the men seemed more surprised than anything else.
One vamp in particular seemed to be awaiting her and strode to the car when she rolled to a stop.
The drive from the mountains to the safe house had seemed to take forever.
It seemed simple enough.
Surprised by the intimate motion that seemed meant to comfort her, Deidre glanced up at him before nuzzling his neck.
He seemed mainly angry.
She seemed unable to keep secrets from anyone.
He seemed content to study her.
Anyone in authority seemed habitually out of the office after Dean gave his name.
What's more, none seemed bent on murder, a decided improvement over some of Bird Song's earlier guests!
The Dawkins brothers and their wives seemed to be continually in each other's faces and the Deans wondered why they bothered to travel together.
That's why it bothered me so much when Martha seemed to understand so quickly.
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.
After embarrassed apologies, she seemed compelled to sit down and chat, as if idle conversation might be penance for the pilfered peach pie.
He seemed compelled to explain his presence as he accompanied them back to Bird Song.
Cynthia's speech about Billy Langstrom seemed as old as the Gettysburg Address, but far less remembered.
That, and the little matter of a cookie in the oven of love, which seemed to be taking a back seat in her ire.
All seemed to be talking at the same time.
It seemed to come from behind them but it could have been anything—a dislodged rock, an echo of their own movements.
But in spite of their pace, the return trip seemed to take much longer.
But he seemed surprised to see us.
Most of the guests seemed content in the parlor, listening to Pumpkin Green ramble away about his upcoming Fourth of July water fight.
Even the Dawkins seemed peaceful.
A quick search of the Montrose phone book surprisingly found a listing that seemed to be what he was seeking.
Dean pulled down the top on his Jeep and slowly drove uptown, giving off what he hoped were candidate smiles and waves to the locals, all of whom seemed to be walking the sun drenched street.
It seemed to suit them as well.
She seemed more genuinely shocked than irate.
The time frame and dates seemed to fit, but that's a mighty long stretch.
He changed the subject by pointing out Brandon Westlake standing near the boys, his arm about Billy, as with animated motions he seemed to be giving last-minute instructions.
After what seemed even longer than the Dean's first trip to the mine just two days earlier, they emerged into the basin where the valley floor was a sea of wildflowers.
Her reverie passed quickly and she seemed embarrassed by it.
The portal was smaller and dryer than the main mine entrance and seemed to lead downward from this elevated location.
He hurried the Jeep as fast as he dared on the gravel-slippery road where even a crawl seemed excessive.
The road remained in the trees and it seemed like hours before he was once again in the open and able to see the valley before him.
Back on the pavement, Dean pedaled past Tom, a well-known wild turkey who'd in past months adopted a location on the highway from which he never seemed to stray more than a few hundred yards.
Two were reading different sections of a newspaper while Roger was stirring his coffee and chatting, although no one seemed to be listening.
It seemed to say "why bother with a newcomer when you can just continue with good ol' Fitz?"
It seemed "metalman29" was working overtime.
She seemed to be crying.
It seemed to do the trick.
His only comment of note was that Patsy, while obviously exhausted, seemed especially cheerful— "pleased with herself" was how he'd described her.
They asked about Martha and seemed to want to stay and chat.
She seemed to consider what he said and set the bottle aside.
Weller seemed to consider just how much he wanted to know.
The further good news was that no one seemed to be immediately concerned with addressing Martha's present circumstances.
There was a question of jurisdictions and when Weller volunteered that Martha was safe and comfortable at Bird Song where she'd spent the last six months, no one seemed to protest.
This seemed to satisfy the official, who was obviously embarrassed over the entire debacle and infinitely relieved that at least half their problem was solved without any accusatory newspaper headlines.
For the first time they seemed interested in something besides themselves.
She seemed to consider whether or not to answer.
It seemed like hours before we found our way out.
Fred O'Connor seemed a tad put out that he'd been absent from the final confrontation in the Lucky Pup Mine until Dean reminded him that without his Internet connection and library research, Martha's bones would still be without identity.
The Dawkinses were history and no one seemed to miss the feuding quartet.
Pumpkin Green was seen about town, always in the company of ever-expanding Melissa, whom he seemed to adore.
"Brandon seemed really close to his brother Ralph," she said as she snapped the fresh green beans.
He seemed at ease with himself, another thing she didn't remember about him.
Gabriel hadn't wanted to believe her story of Darkyn combining the two Deidres into one, but it certainly seemed possible.
She seemed to be thinking of how to respond.
The urge almost seemed stronger with her today than when he left her last night.
No one had ever been able to sneak up on her before, and now, it seemed like everyone did.
The only problem seemed to be that they were somehow trapped on the mortal plane.
The movements seemed to start there, circle around the lake then drop, as if there was an invisible wall.
Today, it seemed harder to swallow than before.
Gabriel could move forward, try to win over the woman who seemed much more interested in him than she had a few days ago, before her deal with the Dark One.
They were all suffering; the more he dwelled on it, the worse it seemed.
For a moment, she seemed apprehensive.
She seemed to have dropped any form of common sense somewhere between Hell and her world.
Today, he seemed … calm, if the ruthless Dark One could be called that.
Andre was the only one who seemed to think there was a reason for Gabriel to be here, and Gabriel trusted Andre more than both Deidres and Darkyn combined.
He did it by pushing the only button that seemed to work on the deity.
He went to the lake and the souls, the only place that seemed to calm him.
She'd seemed uncertain and scared, though.
In fact, she glowed with health, even if she seemed shy or nervous.
He'd never set a number, but right now two hardly seemed enough.
In fact, she seemed to enjoy that form of attention.
Her focus right now seemed to be winning Destiny, but Destiny didn't warm to people easily.
He always seemed to know the best thing to do, and when.
She still seemed energetic and optimistic.
It seemed like a long time, but was probably no longer than fifteen minutes before the mare lunged to her feet, snapping the cord.
The light green scrubs made his long features look sallow and the pale blue eyes that fixed on her seemed more tired than interested.
They still seemed to think that he might wake up at any time, though.
There were, it seemed, worse things than death.
Destiny no longer mentioned Alex, and even Jonathan seemed resigned to living without him.
When they talked to him, he seemed to understand, but he didn't respond.
Such a little thing, and yet it seemed so monumental.
The rest of him seemed to have recovered.
Maybe she should instruct or remind him, but the thought of it seemed so unnatural.
Being Alex's sister, that seemed an unwise choice.
I don't get much out of that, but it always seemed to me that you did.
Alex always seemed to know the right thing to say in any moment, and his silence often felt awkward.
He couldn't possibly know or understand, but he seemed to sense something was wrong between them.
As one problem worked itself out, another always seemed to take its place.
He seemed up to discussing it now.
The summary of results might as well have been in a foreign language with the medical terminology, abbreviations and sprinkling of what seemed like random numbers.
She already knew, but it seemed worse when a doctor said it.
Somehow, it seemed wrong not to warn him.
She seemed to be moving so slowly, crisply aware of every sensation, every thought.
His predecessor had seemed much stronger.
The new world seemed less scary in daylight.
They seemed to be waiting for her reaction.
The simple plan never seemed more appealing.
It seemed so far away, like a dream.
Deidre didn't know what to think about Gabriel, not when he seemed conflicted about her to start off with.
"Will you…" She wasn't sure how to ask for what she wanted, the comfort only he seemed to be able to give her.
Whatever step towards him she seemed to take this day, she'd leapt back about twenty.
Logan had seemed off in hindsight, his gestures unnatural and his talk stilted.
The only one who seemed willing to talk to her before being shushed by Daniela was Rhyn.
The kids seemed entranced by her pink hair.
Her brain tumor never seemed like a blessing before now.
It seemed like death was the only way to make up for whatever past-Deidre did.
Deidre wanted to flee and never return, but she nodded at the young woman who almost seemed normal.
I've never heard a good story about him, but he seemed … nice.
There was a flicker of warmth in his gaze as he teased Katie, and he almost seemed approachable without the bulky trench coat lined with weapons.
Even relaxed in bed, he seemed ready to take on the world.
The only real difference: the ancient intelligence in the deity's steady gaze, which seemed out of place in such a youthful face.
He took up a protective stance within direct sight of them, so still, he seemed like a statue.
The sea breeze seemed to pierce her skull and ruffle through her brain.
Her file --two inches thick --was yet more proof that the world that seemed foreign to her really wasn't.
She felt herself relaxing at his even tone and the words that seemed logical enough.
Andre and Kris seemed to think she was there for the long haul.
She waved back, wondering how the most damning of them all was also the only who seemed anywhere able to feel sympathy.
She saw dark figures jump from the top of the building across from her to the ground, unaffected by what seemed like a thirty-story drop.
The more he watched, the less likely this seemed.
He tugged on another jumper and then lifted her onto the bed with strength that seemed at odds with his small form.
Aside from the scarring, a maroon tattoo seemed to wind all the way around her neck.
He seemed at once disgusted by the fact she was a difficult mortal blood monkey and yet primitively protective, holding her as she quaked after her run-in with a man who wanted to kill her.
There was reason to fear the Ancients, especially this Ancient, who seemed to have no alliance to anything good or bad and was so unpredictable.
In her mind, dragging a human around seemed like a pretty serious liability.
He seemed like a good man.
If anything, he seemed absolutely sure of himself and what he wanted, even if his nature didn't allow him to control his own wild talents.
The bedchamber was done up in pastels, soft rose drapes, light blue and green rugs, yellow pillows and highlights, which seemed to take the chill out of the stone walls.
In fact, the normal world --while comforting --seemed a bit boring after her trauma.
She glanced at her sister, who seemed interested as well.
The dream had seemed so real.
Sasha seemed to be ignoring her, though a small smile of amusement was on his face.
The woman was small and pale with eyes so dull, she seemed almost lifeless.
"He seemed nice to me," Hannah said.
He seemed to be the only one on the Council who truly cared about upholding the balance between good and evil, no matter what the cost.
Kiki and Tamer exchanged a look while Sasha seemed to be the only one pleased by the arrangement.
At Tamer.s height and built like a tank, there had never been anything soft about Death.s assassin, but he seemed more distant than usual.
He seemed to shake his dark mood, and Jade relaxed.
He seemed to have forgotten about her, and Katie stood unsteadily, hoping he.d brought them to the Sanctuary—and safety.
He wasn.t sure what that meant, but it seemed to be a good thing.
The distance back to the beach seemed much longer than it had in her dream.
She wondered if she had died, for she seemed able to see the conversation occurring from a dozen feet away, as if she were watching television instead of involved in it.
The only thing that seemed to click was Evelyn's insistence that there were no spiders.
They seemed to be moving very slowly for being on a spaceship, she mused.
Anger awoke her from the odd spell he seemed to cast over her.
The dual moons seemed to hover somewhere in the middle of the air of a massive chasm, just like the dozen or so hulking spaceships, whose dark grey skins reflected like skins of massive grey whales in the moonlight.
The boy seemed unsure how to respond and gazed at her, as did the others.
She didn't know why, but Ne'Rin hadn't seemed to like her.
No, telling him that she didn't like his most trusted friend seemed … petty.
They seemed like silly emotions when compared to the enormity of his task, and yet, she didn't think she could survive without them.
He seemed to think you'd gone weak and I was the source of your weakness.
He seemed to assume she was staying for good, and she didn't know how to tell him A'Ran had given her a choice she hadn't yet made.
She reached a point that seemed familiar and looked for the dark shadow of the crevice.
It was hard to trust Jetr when he seemed so … squirrelly.
The boy seemed attentive in spite of his muteness so Dean resumed sweeping up needles with his hand and continued to chatter.
The question seemed to bewilder the woman.
The answer seemed to please Edith Shipton and she appeared to relax.
Edith seemed to slump down in her seat.
Jerome took him to a number of doctors but nothing seemed to help.
It was a beautiful day and the town seemed to be enjoying it.
The January sun continued in its brilliance and the rhythmic gliding across the crystal snow, though not exhausting, warmed the couple to the point where even their limited outer cover seemed excessive.
But he obviously idolized Martha and she seemed to be a calming influence on him.
To Dean, she seemed a tad pensive as she sat next to the window.
When Dean told his wife about the bearded man who seemed to be following Edith Shipton, Cynthia just shook her head.
Donnie's entrance seemed to brighten Edith's morning as she clucked over him, cautioning him about the perils of his undertaking in a dozen different ways, all the while ignoring father Donald who'd fled from her bed the night before.
He gave him a smile and a poke and Donnie's anxiety seemed to melt away.
Dean found the deep powder beyond his limited abilities and Donald Ryland seemed content to stay with him and ski the packed trails, sometimes cutting off to test the moguls and deeper snow at the trail's edge.
That was how it seemed to me.
The sole name he retained was Mick, the jolly outgoing spokesman for the group, who seemed to know all of the others.
She seemed bewildered with her surroundings and very weak.
After Cynthia came out and administered a cold face cloth, Edith seemed somewhat better, enough to decline medical attention, though she remained disoriented even after reaching Ryland's small quarters.
All seemed to be in perilously dangerous situations, clinging to the sheer walls with outstretched arms and spread legs, somehow adhered to the clear surface before them.
Cynthia gave him a quick look but Effie seemed unaffected by his sharp but true criticism.
He held her for what seemed like minutes.
He seemed embarrassed by his overnight absence.
The crowd seemed clustered at one particular spot.
She offered her sympathies but seemed more concerned with finding sister Claire and hurried outside to see if any of the other now returning guests had seen her.
The man seemed to consider, aware of the small crowd whose attention was drawn to the group.
No, she still wasn't out of the woods, but everyone seemed pleased at her responses to date.
Corday looked at Fred, seemed to consider asking him to leave and then decided he'd best leave well enough alone.
There seemed to be improvement in her mother's condition but Cynthia's mood remained subdued.
Somehow, considering Gladys, Effie or Claire seemed to stretch common sense more than an overweight bungee jumper.
Stopping her seemed not to enter Dean's mind as she placed a chair in the middle of the room, looking up to make sure it was directly beneath the hanging brass fixture.
They were all gathered, either in Edith's room or nearby in the hall—Corday, Fitzgerald and a number of uniforms who seemed to come and go.
He turned toward the wall and, after what seemed like minutes, heard the bedroom door close.
Fred seemed less than satisfied with Dean's answer but didn't push it.
It had seemed a contented life at the time, but not so much so in retrospect.
It seemed to Dean she'd spent her life on the outside, in some respects by choice, somehow driven from one social plane down to another, much lower, until there was nothing left but death.
They stood there together, holding each other, with her head against his chest, saying nothing, for what seemed like minutes.
Cynthia grimaced but seemed to understand.
Cynthia seemed to understand his hurt.
He thought of Edith Shipton, impregnated by a man she hated and who seemed not to have wanted an intrusive fetus invading her life.
Cynthia, in her infinite wisdom, arranged a generous monetary scale of chores-for-bucks that seemed to take care of the problem.
His words seemed to perk up Franny.
For instance, I don't think it was a mistake that her husband followed her to Ouray as easily as it seemed.
When he read about Annie Quincy's death, that must have seemed too perfect for him to pass up.
The strict rules of their noble births seemed irrelevant now.
At one end sat a man, in what seemed more like a throne.
They seemed so… human.
Frederick seemed guarded and pensive.
She seemed so lost his heart ached for her.
She seemed to be grasping for any distraction to dull the pain.
No one would ever be good enough for Sarah in Jackson's eyes, however, as far as boyfriends went, this guy seemed pretty amiable.
She returned the smile, yet still seemed unable to speak.
When she seemed sufficiently exhausted, he lay on his back.
She seemed to be actually enjoying herself.
She seemed so distraught, especially when he called her a monster; no way did she want him dead.
Sarah seemed confused as well.
That seemed to put her at ease.
They were a soft, sable brown with specs of black that seemed to swirl in motion around her pupils like two tiny solar systems.
It seemed as if she could see his soul.
The fun ones seemed so stupid, they were pitiful and the smart ones were so tedious, he wanted to scream.
She seemed much less guarded than when they met.