THE MANY FACES OF SURVIVAL Sunday, August 10th at 2:00 PST Dachau Liberator, medical whistle-blower, award winning writer, college professor and world renowned garlic farmer, Chester Aaron, talks about the hard choices he’s had to make, why he made...
Mr. Rochester never courted Jane Eyre, Tessa pointed out. No, he dressed up as a woman and terrified the poor girl out of her wits. Is that what you want?
Will I have to use a dictionary to read your book?" asked Mrs. Dodypol. "It depends," says I, "how much you used the dictionary before you read it.
There is one thing, Emma, which a man can always do if he chooses, and that is his duty; not by manoeuvring and finessing, but by vigour and resolution. - Mr. Knightley
To make a current example, the world can find human interest in the death and the love affairs and the pallid addiction to cocaine of Mr. Sherlock Holmes.
Ich schwieg und dachte daran, was für ein Aschenputteldasein sieh geführt hatte, bis Mr. Wopsles Großtante endlich die schlechte Gewohnheit aufgab zu leben, die manche Menschen besser ablegen sollten.
Mrs. Joe was a very clean housekeeper, but had an exquisite art of making her cleanliness more uncomfortable and unacceptable than dirt itself.
Why O why did I ever leave my hobbit-hole?" said poor Mr. Baggins, bumping up and down on Bombur's back.
People need space; families need air; love needs light. Like Mrs. Anastagio always said, ―You need enough rooms to love someone properly.
It seemed to me that Mr. Forrester would approve of a woman who could follow him in conversation and not be baffled by ledgers and currency conversions. I had grossly overestimated him.
Mrs. Reed grabbed Kayla's wrist. "Good. You haven't gotten that damned tattoo. Whatever you do, don't let them make you get it.
My name is Mr. Potatohead, and I’m looking for my wife. But I fear I’m too late, and that she’s already part of some combo meal somewhere.
I feel like I’m walking around in a fog. Orafoura doesn’t call me Mr. Mist for nothing.
I guess you've got a spice of temper," commented Mr. Harrison, surveying the flushed cheeks and indignant eyes opposite him. "It goes with hair like yours, I reckon
There is something nice about a library, isn't there?" Mr. Curtis said. He nodded and took in the familiar scenery. "The scent of ink and worn, dusty pages.
A woman cannot ever be sure of not being married till she is buried, Mrs. Doctor, dear, and meanwhile I will make a batch of cherry pies.
His name was Mr. Quan and he was the concierge, which explained the black suit and the lavender shirt but not the oversized bow tie in chrome-yellow silk. Perhaps nothing could.
The point is, Mrs. MacDonagh, that the universe is exactly the size that your soul can encompass. Some people live in extremely small worlds, and some live in a world of infinite possibility.
I am not your dear; I cannot lie down: send me to school soon, Mrs. Reed, for I hate to live here.
I feel as though whenever I create something, my Mr. Hyde wakes up in the middle of the night and starts thrashing it. I sometimes love it the next morning, but other times it is an abomination.
I'll get there, if I leave everything but my bones behind," said Sam. "And I'll carry Mr. Frodo up myself, if it breaks my back and heart.
