Reilly, his head high, strode toward his new family.
Meg Cabot (written as Patricia Cabot), from Lady of Skye
So I become
my blinding self:
— Remica L Bingham, from “What We Ask of Flesh”
We are under way.
— Elizabeth Bear, from Dust
As evening fell and they settled down into the first stage of their long journey, Tryfan thought to himself that if he ever did become a scribemole, then perhaps, with the Stone’s grace, he might one day record all that Boswell was beginning to tell him now of the story of Bracken and his beloved Rebecca.
— William Horwood, from Duncton Wood
[Now crazy Nell rambles; and still she will weep,
And, fearless, at night into hovels will creep.]
Fond parents! alas, their affliction is deep,
And vainly they comfort their child
— John Clare, from “
Poems Descriptive of Rural Life and Scenery”
Not Heaven itself upon the past has power,
But what has been, has been, and I have had my hour.
— John Dryden, from “Happy the Man”