For two years I noticed that the glands were constantly attended by a small ant (Pheidole), and, night and day, every young leaf and every flower-bud had a few on them.
— from The Naturalist in Nicaragua by Thomas Belt

Ah, damn it, I was looking forward to a hanging, with a bang-up speech from the platform and not a dry eye in the entire public square except for a few pickpockets and sellers of soft drinks."
— from The Trial of Callista Blake by Edgar Pangborn

He calls Gifford a cat’s paw, the Government critic, the paymaster of the band of Gentleman Pensioners, a nuisance, a “dull, envious, pragmatical, low-bred man....
— from Leigh Hunt's Relations with Byron, Shelley and Keats by Barnette Miller

Although a pronounced epicure in both food and drink, he passed a new and delicate entrée , and not only ordered the wrong claret, but drank it without a grimace.
— from Berenice by E. Phillips (Edward Phillips) Oppenheim

"'Undreds of pounds' worth of flowers flung on to every platform, and not a dry eye in the place!"
— from Stingaree by E. W. (Ernest William) Hornung

An example of conditions where the important problems of transmission are absent exists in the numerous factories grouped about the great water-power plants at Niagara and drawing electrical energy from it.
— from Electric Transmission of Water Power by Alton D. Adams

Aunt Emma saw how it was, and ordered them off to bed, and next morning the reaction had come, and they were pale and nervous and depressed enough to please the most exacting friend who might be anxious to make them "sensible of their escape."
— from A Round Dozen by Susan Coolidge

Meanwhile, in this same town, twenty-two gentlemen; at Beaune, forty priests and nobles; at Dijon, eighty-three heads of families, locked up as suspected without evidence or examination, and confined at their own expense two months under pikes, ask themselves every morning whether the populace and the volunteers, who shout death cries through the streets, mean to release them in the same way as in Paris.
— from The French Revolution - Volume 2 by Hippolyte Taine

Rain pounded on their shelter, but it was roofed with pine branches above the planks, and not a drop entered.
— from His Unknown Wife by Louis Tracy