`` The snake was beautiful, wasn't it ''??

and, `` I do think that families are the most beautiful things in all the world '', burst out Jo some five hundred pages later in that popular story of the March family, which had first appeared when Henrietta was eight ; ;

At Sounion there is a group of beautiful columns, the ruins of a temple to Poseidon, of particular interest at that time, as active reconstruction was in progress.

It was fantastic writing, beautiful writing, the man declared, but the public, he insisted, wanted realism.

Now he was married to a beautiful girl, had a small son, and lived in an expensive apartment and worked for the movies.

`` Billie was really beautiful ''!!

Since it was issued in the spring of 1611, the King James Version has been most generally considered the most poetic and beautiful of all translations of the Bible.

To most of those who composed the Amen corner it was a magnificent and beautiful experience, something for which they lived from week to week.

She was so beautiful with her rosy mouth and haughty air that she had to be wicked.

His captain was thin and haggard and his beautiful boots were worn and shabby.

All she did was write me a pleasant little note about how it was beautiful while it lasted but that now life had parted our ways and it was goodbye forever.

The most beautiful bed of pansies I've seen was in a South Dakota yard on a sizzling day.

One of the most beautiful buildings in Istanbul, it was constructed in the early years of the Seventeenth Century, with a huge central dome, two half domes that seem to cascade down from it, and smaller full domes around the gallery.

I asked Quasimodo recently how he accomplished this, and he replied that he had painted his model `` a beautiful shade of red and then had her breathe on the canvas '', which was his typical tongue-in-cheek way of chiding me for my lack of sensitivity.

The beautiful, the satisfying part of his disintegration, however, was the masterly way the Buddha polished him off.

It, along with Nara, was untouched by the war -- and is now a beautiful example of the loveliness of prewar Japan.

Well, you say, those are beautiful words all right, but it was easy for the psalmist to sing them in his day.

it was even beautiful.

Sometimes they struck me as horribly over-arranged -- which was the way I felt about her `` Come Rain or Come Shine '' -- and sometimes they were just plain magnificent, like her shatteringly beautiful `` Beautiful Weather ''.

And this was before he began to play his startlingly beautiful jazz.

The result was like that of a beautiful painting with some of the highlights touched up almost to the point of garishness.

She was so beautiful, so valiant, so pitiable.

How strange it was that he could give her this handsome house and carte blanche as to its beautiful furnishings, and fail her in -- spiritual ways.

It was a fair fight, the boy provoked it -- Big Charlie told me so.

Next to him was a young boy I was sure had sat near me at one of the trading sessions.

Now under me I could see him for what he really was, a boy dressed up in streaks of paint.

Even the knowledge that she was losing another boy, as a mother always does when a marriage is made, did not prevent her from having the first carefree, dreamless sleep that she had known since they dropped down the canyon and into Bear Valley, way, way back there when they were crossing those other mountains.

Often, I heard my uncles and cousins speak of it when I was a small boy growing up in Rabaul.

Now it did not occur to him even to wonder whether it was wise for Robinson to dive again: Rob was his boy, the kid he had rescued from the streets, the object of his pride.

As a boy in a local school he was shy and solitary, absorbed in his fondness for nature and his visions of Sweden's ancient glory.

But on one occasion when I encountered a similar fantasy in a little boy who was my patient I began to understand the uncanny effects of this story.

Neither was Henrietta hoydenish like Jo, who frankly wished she were a boy and had deliberately shortened her name, which, like Henrietta's, was the feminine form of a boy's name.

During the summers, while he was still in school, Mercer worked for his father's firm as a messenger boy.

A little boy came to give the President his personal condolences, and the President gave word that any little boy who wanted to see him was to be shown in.

But one day came the voice of a man I had known when he was a boy, and I later remembered that this boy, thirty years before, had struck me as coming to no good.

There had been something sinister about him that warned me against him, -- I had never felt that way about any other boy, -- but when he uttered his name on the telephone I had forgotten this and I was glad to do what he asked of me.

Never hearing from him again, I remembered the little boy of whom I had had such doubts when he was ten years old.

Finally we got them out of the house, after the boy had run away four times looking for other Nazis, threatening to murder village schoolchildren and bragging that he was to be the next Fuhrer.

As he pulled the fringed sides up and made himself into a cocoon, Mr. Podger saw that thin, attractive, freckled little face again, and hoped that the boy, too, was lying in a cool, fringed-wrapped quiet.

Mrs. Dwyer's husband, M. Joseph Dwyer, was taking a 10-year-old boy from Union County on the tour of the Capitol during the final weeks of the last session.

He was an emotional, lonely boy who spent so much time turning out drawings that he did scarcely any schoolwork.

He was a wiry, inscrutable, silent country boy from the red clay of rural Alabama, and he spoke with the broad drawl that others normally make fun of.

Before the fight was over, the Harlem boy had a concussion and Trig was cut up badly.