But Dorothea, who had taken off her gloves, from an impulse which she could never resist when she wanted a sense of freedom, came forward, and with her face full of a sad yet sweet openness, put out her hand.
— from Middlemarch by George Eliot

And first, I'll give you a bit of hope; Silver, if we both get alive out of this wolf-trap, I'll do my best to save you, short of perjury.”
— from Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson

So, you see, our papers were quickly written out, and certainly do not come very expensive.”
— from The Count of Monte Cristo, Illustrated by Alexandre Dumas

But now those ancient enmities are o'er; To-morrow we the favouring gods implore; Then shall you see our parting vessels crown'd, And hear with oars the Hellespont resound.
— from The Iliad by Homer

He fairly dropped asleep on the roof over the funeral march.” “Drink it up; you positively must drink the brandy, and then seltzer water and a lot of lemon,” said Yashvin, standing over Petritsky like a mother making a child take medicine, “and then a little champagne—just a small bottle.” “Come, there’s some sense in that.
— from Anna Karenina by Tolstoy, Leo, graf

"Fine show you stand of picking up a shoe print in a crowd like that one out there!"
— from Boy Scouts on Motorcycles; Or, With the Flying Squadron by G. Harvey (George Harvey) Ralphson

Still you shine, oh, perfect Star, Beyond, afar.
— from Archaic England An Essay in Deciphering Prehistory from Megalithic Monuments, Earthworks, Customs, Coins, Place-names, and Faerie Superstitions by Harold Bayley

I'm blest if I do—quite the reverse; 'Tis a weary round to which we are bound, The same thing over and over again; Much toil and trouble, and a glittering bubble, That rises and bursts, is the best we gain; And we murmur, and yet 'tis certain we get What good we deserve—can we hope for more?— They are roaring, those waves, in their echoing caves— To whom do they profit?—Let them roar! H2 anchor Bellona Thou art moulded in marble impassive, False goddess, fair statue of strife, Yet standest on pedestal massive, A symbol and token of life.
— from Poems by Adam Lindsay Gordon by Adam Lindsay Gordon

You have been talk'd of since your travel much, And that in Hamlet's hearing, for a quality Wherein they say you shine, Your sun of parts Did not together pluck such envy from him As did that one; and that, in my regard, Of the unworthiest siege.
— from The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark by William Shakespeare

Although the secondary colours are capable of being obtained by admixture of the primaries in an infinitude of hues, tints, and shades; yet simple original pigments of whatever class—whether secondary, tertiary, or semi-neutral—are, it has been said before, often superior to those compounded, both in a chemical and artistic sense.
— from Field's Chromatography or Treatise on Colours and Pigments as Used by Artists by George Field

and the doctor took up a soiled, yellow sheet of paper, from the heap rejected by the workman; it contained a scrawl which proved to be the identical letter of the poor poet, the Lumley autograph, though in what manner it became mingled with that heap of rubbish has never been satisfactorily ascertained.
— from The Lumley Autograph by Susan Fenimore Cooper