Word: mists
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: all
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...about 11, something woke in the obscure night over their heads; at first no more than a drowsy, indistinguishable murmur, then a louder whine, like the nasal complaining of some fabulous insect; presently its eye became visible?a small inflamed pimple, swathed in huge bandages of mist. The more alert of the two campers nudged his companion...
...summons of his fantastic torch, assumed around him an aspect of exaggerated horror; water-rotted trees at the river's edge stretched their arms in stiff attitudes of torment, like ghouls petrified in the death-agony; the motionless grain at his feet seemed to have been cemented, by the mist and the strange light, into an acre of solid stone. As he peered under his hand, trying in vain to see beyond the circle his flare had chiseled in the concave night, he looked like a man standing in a cave, beset by prodigious walls...
...enemy was supposed to be slinking behind some innocent looking isle, hidden behind a veil of mist, when the fleet poured out of Pearl Harbor in a sortie. But there wasn't any enemy, and there wasn't any mist to hide him-it was a perfect day. The fleet was only partly in Pearl Harbor because the harbor needs dredging before the heavy battleships can enter...
Usually quite unconsciously to ourselves, for prejudice's that is conscious, like a mist at the rising of the sun, is likely to be about to dissipate. And herein lies one of the great difficulties in thinking aright, that we do not know when we are wrong, or we should not be wrong. The man who knows the right trail does not miss it. We go wrong because the moon has smittea our minds with error...
...fortify his health, he started on a walking tour through Scotland. There the mist wetted him, the food was bad, he met "a mahogany-faced old jackass who knew Burns." While he was tramping 30 miles a day in drenched clothes for the sake of his throat, certain sharp dolts in Edinburgh published a review of his poem Endynrion, called it "Cockney Poetry," advised him to go back "to plasters, pills and ointment boxes," prophesied that his bookseller would not a second time "venture £50 on anything he might write." These reviews were waiting for him when he returned...