Agonize day and night beside her bed: There whimper, pierced to the heart with cruel pangs, Until she heal thee of thy grievous pain."
— from The Fall of Troy by Quintus, Smyrnaeus, active 4th century

For no woman finds peace until she has tasted of all the poisoned dishes at the banquet of life—and then the peace is either of the dead body or the dead mind.
— from Poppy: The Story of a South African Girl by Cynthia Stockley

During the first days of August, 1901, the enemy seemed more determined than ever to effect my capture, or sweep me out of the Cape Colony, Very large forces concentrated on my commando, and pressed us so hard that our only safety lay in retreating to the Orange Free State.
— from In the Shadow of Death by P. H. (Pieter Hendrick) Kritzinger

The huge steamer, freshly painted, all spick and span, laden to the water-line with precious freight, her enormous funnels belching clouds of black smoke, with white steam hissing from every part of her giant hulk, as if the imprisoned energy were eager to put its power to the test; the air filled with the babel of many voices, smart stewards standing at attention on the lower deck, ready to serve the embarking passengers, uniformed sailors hurrying to obey sharply given orders; officers resplendent in immaculate white duck and gold braid, solemnly promenading the bridge, as if impressed with the weight of their responsibility; excited travelers arriving in every description of vehicle; messengers rushing here and there with floral baskets and hot-house fruit sent as parting gifts; telegraph-boys [Pg 32] bringing words of farewell; tear-stained faces smiling au revoir , handkerchiefs waving and much shouting; policemen pushing back the spectators anxious to see the last of friends and relatives; the crowd growing gradually smaller and the shouts more distant as the leviathan swings out in to the stream—all this makes up a picture which, once beheld, is forever engraved on heart and memory.
— from By Right of Conquest: A Novel by Arthur Hornblow

She floundered around with her eyes still shut, and [Pg 30] gasped and caught her breath just like a drowning person, until she heard the others laughing at her, and then she opened her eyes with astonishment.
— from Little Mr. Thimblefinger and His Queer Country by Joel Chandler Harris