But the man for whom the mass is said withers away little by little, and nobody can say what is the matter with him; even the doctors can make nothing of it.
— from The Golden Bough: A Study of Magic and Religion by James George Frazer

The sun sank below London, and night came slow and black over the marshes and the Cop.
— from The Hole in the Wall by Arthur Morrison

Then I said to him: ‘I shall never help you; for if you had led a better life, and not committed so many crimes, you would not now be obliged to wander about in this form.
— from Tales and Legends of the Tyrol by Günther, Marie A., countess

Inquiries similar to mine were made a few years since in the book-stores of Switzerland and Germany by my friend, Professor W. J. Rolfe, who found without difficulty the German and English text of single or collected poems by Longfellow at Nuremberg, Cologne, Strasburg, Lucerne, Interlaken, and elsewhere.
— from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow by Thomas Wentworth Higginson