He wore a blue frock-coat falling in a straight line round his thin body, and his leather cap, with its lappets knotted over the top of his head with string, showed under the turned-up peak a bald forehead, flattened by the constant wearing of a helmet.
— from Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert

It was almost morning, when Defarge's wine-shop parted with its last knot of customers, and Monsieur Defarge said to madame his wife, in husky tones, while fastening the door: “At last it is come, my dear!”
— from A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens

If she these tears of sorrow shed Who many a thousand children bred, Think what a life of woe is left Kauśalyá, of her Ráma reft.
— from The Rámáyan of Válmíki, translated into English verse by Valmiki

Thet I felt some stuck up is wut it’s nat’ral to suppose, When poppylar enthusiasm hed furnished me sech clo’es; (Ner ’t ain’t without edvantiges, this kin’ o’ suit, ye see, It’s water-proof, an’ water’s wut I like kep’ out o’ me;) But nut content with thet, they took a kerridge from the fence An’ rid me roun’ to see the place, entirely free ‘f expense, With forty-’leven new kines o’ sarse without no charge acquainted me, Gi’ me three cheers, an’ vowed thet
— from The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 09, No. 51, January, 1862 A Magazine of Literature, Art, and Politics by Various

Coffee-plants are able to bear an amount of cold which is little known or thought of.
— from Coffee and Chicory: Their culture, chemical composition, preparation for market, and consumption, with simple tests for detecting adulteration, and practical hints for the producer and consumer by P. L. (Peter Lund) Simmonds

"I wonder if Laxton knows of this?"
— from Barbara Rebell by Marie Belloc Lowndes

" "Little did I think such things of him," said the Prince, "when I laid knighthood on his shoulder in the battle-field of Navaretta; yet I remember even then old Chandos chid me for over-hastiness.
— from The Lances of Lynwood by Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary) Yonge

Together they made a long and fruitless search through the vast old house, and up to the last moment Barbara thought it possible they might find someone in hiding, some poor foot-sore sailor tramp, may-be, who had wandered in, little knowing of the trouble he was bringing—but the long search yielded nothing.
— from Barbara Rebell by Marie Belloc Lowndes

How things went in the outside world I little knew or cared.
— from John Halifax, Gentleman by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik