"Wilted" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... sympathetic, knowing—ready to serve his country in whatsoever capacity he could serve it best. When lo! the death of the King cut off his pension, a new party came in, his influential friends were thrown out of power, and Addison's prospects wilted in a ...
— Little Journeys to the Homes of the Great, Volume 5 (of 14) • Elbert Hubbard
... gayety; and I confess that though while the flowers and leaves are fresh the decorated assembly is picturesque, especially as the women wear their hair flowing, and many have beautiful wavy tresses, yet toward evening, when the maile has wilted and the garlands are rumpled and decaying, this kind of ornamentation gives an air of dissipation to the company which it by no ...
— Northern California, Oregon, and the Sandwich Islands • Charles Nordhoff
... a cloud of cigar smoke in my face to show that he was just as big as I was, and start tight in to regularly cuss me out. But he didn't get very far. I simply looked at Mm, and said sudden, "Git, you Mick," and he wilted back out of the office just as easy as if ...
— Old Gorgon Graham - More Letters from a Self-Made Merchant to His Son • George Horace Lorimer
... rear on the crest of a wave Shone a woman's white face. "Keep your courage; be brave; I am coming," he shouted. "Turn over and float." His strong shoulder plunged like the prow of a boat Through the billows. Six overhand strokes brought him close To the woman, who lay like a wilted white rose On the waves. "Now, be careful," he cried; "lay your hand Well up on my shoulder; my arms, understand, Must be free; do not touch them—-please follow my wishes, Unless you are anxious to fatten ...
— Three Women • Ella Wheeler Wilcox
... Hail, holy nakedness of our dancing girls!—the Heeva-Heeva! Ah! low veiled, high palmed Tahiti! I still rest me on thy mat, but the soft soil has slid! I saw thee woven in the wood, my mat! green the first day I brought ye thence; now worn and wilted quite. Ah me!—not thou nor I can bear the change! How then, if so be transplanted to yon sky? Hear I the roaring streams from Pirohitee's peak of spears, when they leap down the crags and drown the villages?—The blast! ...
— Moby Dick; or The Whale • Herman Melville
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