all so dear to me—what you are, (whatever it is,) I putting it at random in these songs, become a part of that, whatever it is, Southward there, I screaming, with wings slow flapping, with the myriads of gulls wintering along the coasts of Florida, Otherways there atwixt the banks of the Arkansaw, the Rio Grande, the Nueces, the Brazos, the Tombigbee, the Red River, the Saskatchawan or the Osage, I with the spring waters laughing and skipping and running, Northward, on the sands, on some shallow bay of Paumanok, I with parties of snowy herons wading in the wet to seek worms and aquatic plants, Retreating, triumphantly twittering, the king-bird, from piercing the crow with its bill, for amusement—and I triumphantly twittering, The migrating flock of wild geese alighting in autumn to refresh themselves, the body of the flock feed, the sentinels outside move around with erect heads watching, and are from time to time reliev'd by other sentinels—and I feeding and taking turns with the rest, In Kanadian forests the moose, large as an ox, corner'd by hunters, rising desperately on his hind-feet, and plunging with his fore-feet, the hoofs as sharp as knives—and I, plunging at the hunters, corner'd and desperate, In the Mannahatta, streets, piers, shipping, store-houses, and the countless workmen working in the shops, And I too of the Mannahatta, singing thereof—and no less in myself than the whole of the Mannahatta in itself, Singing the song of These, my ever-united lands—my body no more inevitably united, part to part, and made out of a thousand diverse contributions one identity, any more than my lands are inevitably united and made ONE IDENTITY; Nativities, climates, the grass of the great pastoral Plains, Cities, labors, death, animals, products, war, good and evil—these me, These affording, in all their particulars, the old feuillage to me and to America, how can I do less than pass the clew of the union of them, to afford the like to you? Whoever you are!
— from Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman

el re ſedere ataula con vno ſuo figliolo picolino et maſticare betre dietro da lui erano ſinon donne Alhora ne diſſe vno principalle nuy nõ poteuão parlare al re et ſe voleuamo alguna coſa Lo diceſſemo alui ꝓ che la direbe avno piu principale et
— from The Philippine Islands, 1493-1898, Volume 33, 1519-1522 Explorations by early navigators, descriptions of the islands and their peoples, their history and records of the Catholic missions, as related in contemporaneous books and manuscripts, showing the political, economic, commercial and religious conditions of those islands from their earliest relations with European nations to the close of the nineteenth century by Antonio Pigafetta

—Nihil est quod credere de se Non possit, cum laudatur Diis aequa potestas.
— from The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire Table of Contents with links in the HTML file to the two Project Gutenberg editions (12 volumes) by Edward Gibbon

Then Apollo, his purple robes barely hiding the perfection of his limbs, a wreath of laurel crowning his yellow curls, looked down at Pan from his godlike height and smiled in silence.
— from A Book of Myths by Jean Lang

Patricia entered like a sunbeam, and after her sauntered Sir Charles Carew, languid, debonair, and perfectly appareled.
— from The Old Dominion by Mary Johnston

If my child lies dying (as poor Tom lay, with his white wan lips quivering, for want of better food than I could give him), does the rich man bring the wine or broth that might save his life?
— from Mrs. Gaskell by Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell

“Yes,” answered the chief, “lie down;” and Pauppukkeewis soon found himself changed into one of them.
— from Folk-Lore and Legends: North American Indian by Anonymous

I know that I coincide (unless I misconstrue) with your Canons laid down at pp. 162, etc.
— from Letters of Edward FitzGerald, in Two Volumes. Vol. 2 by Edward FitzGerald

We started southwards from the Glacière of Grand Anu , for such they said was the proper name for the cave last described, and passed over some of the wildest walking I have seen.
— from Ice-Caves of France and Switzerland by G. F. (George Forrest) Browne

Mine, sir; if you choose— Capper (locking door, and putting key in his pocket).
— from Two Men of Sandy Bar: A Drama by Bret Harte

James Head, of McComb, was also one of the murderers at the Carthage Jail; he was heard by Captain Lawn and others to boast of it afterwards, and Captain Lawn drew a pistol and chased him; but he ran away.
— from The Autobiography of Parley Parker Pratt One of the Twelve Apostles of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, Embracing His Life, Ministry, and Travels by Parley P. (Parley Parker) Pratt