"Threadlike" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... decided motion. Somewhere in the elder's expanding soul a tune had begun to ring. Possibly he took up the far, faint tune that came from the straggling gang of negroes away off in the field, as they slowly chopped amid the threadlike rows of cotton plants which lined the level ground, for the melody he hummed softly and then sang strongly, in the quavering, catchy tones of a good old country churchman, was "I'm glad ...
— The Best American Humorous Short Stories • Various
... with threadlike legs spread out, And blood-extracting bill and filmy wing, Dost murmur, as thou slowly sail'st about, In pitiless ears full many a plaintive thing, And tell how little our large veins would bleed, Would we but yield them ...
— Poetical Works of William Cullen Bryant - Household Edition • William Cullen Bryant
... man and produce various types of disease. These plants belong mostly to the same group as the moulds, and they are especially apt to attack the skin. They grow in the skin, particularly under the hair, and may send their threadlike branches into some of the subdermal tissues. This produces irritation and inflammation of the skin, resulting in trouble, and making sores difficult to heal. So long as the plant continues to grow, the sores, of course, can not be ...
— The Story Of Germ Life • H. W. Conn
... against the cliffs, and the gray gulls squealed as they tossed and turned high in the sky. The tide was creeping across the river sands, higher, higher, and I saw the seaweed floating on the beach, and the lancons springing from the foam, silvery threadlike flashes in the gloom. Curlew were flying up the river in twos and threes; the timid sea swallows skimmed across the moors toward some quiet, lonely pool, safe from the coming tempest. In every hedge field birds were ...
— Famous Modern Ghost Stories • Various
... What hopes, what fears, what comfort, what anguish, what despair, in the roll of its coming or its parting wheels! In the spring, when the old people get the coughs which give them a few shakes and their lives drop in pieces like the ashes of a burned thread which have kept the threadlike shape until they were stirred,—in the hot summer noons, when the strong man comes in from the fields, like the son of the Shunamite, crying, "My head, my head,"—in the dying autumn days, when youth and maiden lie fever-stricken in many a household, still-faced, dull-eyed, ...
— Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 5, No. 31, May, 1860 • Various |
