we have yet a little flour part of what we carried up from the Illinois as high as Maria's river and buried it there untill our return &c. at 8 A. M we took our leave and Set out, and proceeded on very well, at 11 A.M. passed the Enterance of the big Sieoux River which is low, and at meridian we came too at Floyds Bluff below the Enterance of Floyds river and assended the hill, with Capt Lewis and Several men, found the grave had been opened by the nativs and left half Covered.
— from The Journals of Lewis and Clark, 1804-1806 by William Clark

This day I received a good sum of money due to me upon one score or another from Sir G. Carteret, among others to clear all my matters about Colours,—[Flags]—wherein a month or two since I was so embarrassed and I thank God I find myself to have got clear, by that commodity, L50 and something more; and earned it with dear pains and care and issuing of my owne money, and saved the King near L100 in it. 29th (Lord’s day).
— from The Diary of Samuel Pepys — Complete by Samuel Pepys

Narcissa spoke); “No, let a charming chintz, and Brussels lace Wrap my cold limbs, and shade my lifeless face: One would not, sure, be frightful when one’s dead—
— from An Essay on Man; Moral Essays and Satires by Alexander Pope

[367] ANOTHER SUCKLING PIG ALITER PORCELLUM SALT, CUMIN, LASER; ADD SAUSAGE MEAT.
— from Cookery and Dining in Imperial Rome by Apicius

Narcissa spoke); No, let a charming chintz and Brussels lace Wrap my cold limbs, and shade my lifeless face.”
— from English Villages by P. H. (Peter Hampson) Ditchfield

juguete , m. , plaything; —— cómico , a short comedy; —— lírico , a short musical extravaganza.
— from Heath's Modern Language Series: The Spanish American Reader by Ernesto Nelson

“When I turn my eyes,” he says, “to the works of men, and see the cities that are built on every side, all the elements yoked to our service, languages fixed, nations civilised, harbours constructed, lands and skies measured—then the world seems to me very old.
— from Diderot and the Encyclopædists (Vol. 2 of 2) by John Morley

He pleaded his cause like a strong man, and when he spoke of failure because of her preference for Mortimer, an acridity crept into his voice that meant relentless prosecution.
— from Thoroughbreds by William Alexander Fraser

I was the lawful wife of a man of honor, who did what he could to evade your cruel laws, and set me free.
— from Dred: A Tale of the Great Dismal Swamp by Harriet Beecher Stowe

Suwarrow,—who but saw things in the gross, Being much too gross to see them in detail, Who calculated life as so much dross,
— from Don Juan by Byron, George Gordon Byron, Baron

The inquisitor Michaëlis was so humbled by a victory he could not have gained without her, so wroth with the Flemish exorciser who had become her obedient follower, and let her see into all the hidden springs of the tragedy, that he came simply to crush Louisa, and save Madeline by substituting the one for the other, if he could, in this popular drama.
— from La Sorcière: The Witch of the Middle Ages by Jules Michelet

For a quarter of a century these passions had lain dormant, crushed beneath the slow routine of daily duties; but these, in their unvarying monotony, had, on the other hand, made that lapse of years appear but as a few weeks, and kept the memory of those stormy scenes fresher than that of the events that, one by one, had crept into the convent life, and slowly modified its dull course.
— from My Little Lady by E. Frances (Eleanor Frances) Poynter

SAILING SAILING SHIPS LYING on Downs above the wrinkling bay I with the kestrels shared the cleanly day, The candid day; wind-shaven, brindled turf; Tall cliffs; and long sea-line of marbled surf From Cornish Lizard to the Kentish Nore Lipping the bulwarks of the English shore, While many a lovely ship below sailed by On unknown errand, kempt and leisurely; And after each, oh, after each, my heart Fled forth, as, watching from the Downs apart, I shared with ships good joys and fortunes wide That might befall their beauty and their pride; Shared first with them the blessèd void repose Of oily days at sea, when only rose The porpoise’s slow wheel to break the sheen Of satin water indolently green, When for’ard the crew, caps tilted over eyes, Lay heaped on deck; slept; murmured; smoked; threw dice; The sleepy summer days; the summer nights (The coast pricked out with rings of harbour-lights), The motionless nights, the vaulted nights of June When high in the cordage drifts the entangled moon, And blocks go knocking, and the sheets go slapping, And lazy swells against the sides come lapping; And summer mornings off red Devon rocks, Faint inland bells at dawn and crowing cocks.
— from Orchard and Vineyard by V. (Victoria Mary) Sackville-West

He was oppressed by the weight and the torment of this thing called life, and still more was he oppressed by the fear of death.
— from Love of Life, and Other Stories by Jack London

32 In painting his own picture, from which an engraving has been taken, Poussin's classical preferences seem to have passed into the likeness, for in the dress of the seventeenth century, the cloak (not unlike a toga), the massive hand with the heavy signet-ring resting on what looks like a closed portfolio, the painter has something of the severe air and haughty expression of an old Roman; still more, perhaps, of the French-Romans, if I may call them so, of whom revolutionary times nearly two centuries later, afforded so many examples.
— from The Old Masters and Their Pictures, For the Use of Schools and Learners in Art by Sarah Tytler