“No need of my starvin’ beforehand. I always have room enough, and I’d like to have Thanksgiving every day,” answered Solomon, gloating like a young ogre over the little pig that lay near by, ready for roasting.
Two Thanksgiving Day Gentlemen by O. Henry
Every Thanksgiving Day for nine years the Old Gentleman had come there and found Stuffy Pete on his bench. That was a thing that the Old Gentleman was trying to make a tradition of.
Oldtown Folks by Harriet Beecher Stowe
“Yes,” said Bill; “the Oldtown folks call their minister’s wife Lady yet.”
“Well, that ‘s a little comfort,” said Miss Mehitable; “one don’t want life an entire dead level. Do let us have one titled lady among us.”
The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Something in his leisurely movements and the secure position of his feet upon the lawn suggested that it was Mr. Gatsby himself, come out to determine what share was his of our local heavens.
Captain Blood by Rafael Sabatini
“There is no more to be said, gentlemen. My name is Blood—Captain Blood, if you please, of this ship the Cinco Llagas, taken as a prize of war from Don Diego de Espinosa y Valdez, who is my prisoner aboard.
In the Shadow of Young Girls in Flower by Marcel Proust(Within a budding grove)
…I saw coming towards me five or six young girls, as different in appearance and manner from all the people whom one was accustomed to see at Balbec as could have been…
A Marriage Below Zero by Alan DaleA Novel
My marriage was not a particularly interesting event from an anecdotal standpoint. My mother was far too precisely conventional to allow anything to interfere in the slightest with the rule laid down by that terrible tyrant in petticoats, Mrs. Grundy.
Death in Venice by Thomas Mann
Denied and glossed over, death was eating its way along the narrow streets, and its dissemination was especially favoured by the premature summer heat which made the water of the canals lukewarm.
Cecil Dreeme by Theodore Winthrop
“Mr. Cecil Dreeme,” I said to myself, “is some confident genius, willing to have his name remain in diminutive letters on a visiting-card until the world writes it in big capitals in Valhalla.
Dangerous Connections by Choderlos de Laclos
God forbid I should ever intend making a general apology for all novels! that would be the idea of a Demoniac; I only mean to justify useful novels. If any one makes a bad use of this kind of writing, I most willingly acquiesce in their condemnation. Let us now examine whether the author of Dangerous Connections deserves to suffer.
Villette by Charlotte Brontë
Breakfast over, I must again move—in what direction? “Go to Villette,” said an inward voice; prompted doubtless by the recollection of this slight sentence uttered carelessly and at random by Miss Fanshawe, as she bid me good-by: “I wish you would come to Madame Beck’s; she has some marmots whom you might look after; she wants an English gouvernante, or was wanting one two months ago.”
Wagner, the Wehr-Wolf
“’Tis said that at sunset on the last day of every month the mortal, to whom belongs the destiny of the Wehr-Wolf, must exchange his natural form for that of the savage animal; in which horrible shape he must remain until the moment when the morrow’s sun dawns upon the earth.”