Her name was L'Turu and she told me many things.

Her name was Esther Peter.

Her name was Mollie.

Her lips, moist and parted, spoke his name.

Her name was Sabella, and the strip of seaweed around her neck was an emerald necklace the King gave her as a token of his undying love.

Her name was Suzanne, and mine Stephen.

Her father was a man of consular rank ; her grandfather's name was Catulus.

Her name is the Latinized form of the Greek ( Androméda ) or ( Andromédē ): " ruler of men ", from ( anēr, andrós ) " man ", and medon, " ruler ".

His mother, Paula ( born Paula Voit ), had German as a mother tongue, but was ethnically of " mixed Hungarian " origin: Her maiden name Voit is German, probably of Saxon origin from Upper Hungary ( Since 1920 in Czechoslovakia, since 1993 in Slovakia ), though she spoke Hungarian fluently.

Her name is Carmilla.

In November 2011 there was an Australian tour by various artists involved with the " She Will Her Way " and " He Will Have His Way " projects, under the name " They Will Have Their Way.

Her nickname appears as a store name in the story " Christmas in Duckburg ", featured on page 1 of Walt Disney ’ s Christmas Parade # 9, published in 1958.

Her first name, Drew, was the maiden name of her paternal great-grandmother, Georgie Drew Barrymore ; her middle name, Blyth, was the original surname of the dynasty founded by her great-grandfather, Maurice Barrymore.

Her name was Angélique, after both Diderot's dead mother and sister.

Her character as mother-goddess is identified in the second element of her name meter () derived from Proto-Indo-European * méh₂tēr ( mother ).

Speaking of his wife, Desdemona, Othello the Moor says, " Her name that was as fresh / As Dian's visage, is now begrim'd and black / As mine own face.

and those followers who " chant the name of the Lord " are cleared as outlined thus: " Her account is cleared by the Righteous Judge of Dharma, when she chants the Name of the Lord, Har, Har.

Her name may have to do with the fact that Hylas was the son of Theiodamas, the king of the Dryopes.

Her name was Patrice Amati del Grande, and she became his companion after he separated from his wife.

Her name is Mary spelled backwards.

Her name is Aroluz backwards.

Her name is an anagram of Grundy ( from Mrs. Grundy, a character in Thomas Morton's play Speed the Plough ).

Her face was very thin, and burned by the sun until much of the skin was dead and peeling, the new skin under it red and angry.

Her blond hair was frowzy, her dress torn in several places, and her shoes were so completely worn out that they were practically no protection.

Her form was silhouetted and with the strong light I could see the outlines of her body, a body that an artist or anyone else would have admired.

Her mouth, which had been so much in my thoughts, was warm and moist and tender.

Her heart, her maternal feeling, in fact her being was too busy expressing itself, as quietly thrilled by this sight of her Nicolas curled asleep under a blanket, in a park like a scene from Poussin.

Her white blond hair was clean and brushed long straight down to her shoulders.

Her thick hair was the color and texture of charcoal.

Her laugh was hard.

Her face was pale but set and her dark eyes smoldered with blame for Ben.

Her stern was down and a sharp list helped us to cut loose the lifeboat which dropped heavily into the water.

( Her account was later confirmed by the Scobee-Frazier Expedition from the University of Manitoba in 1951.

Her mother was a good manager and established a millinery business in Milwaukee.

Her brother Karl was a very gentle soul, her mother was a quiet woman who said little but who had hard, probing eyes.

Her mother, now dead, was my good friend and when she came to tell us about her plans and to show off her ring I had a sobering wish to say something meaningful to her, something her mother would wish said.

Her action was involuntary.

Her speech was barren of southernisms ; ;

Her quarters were on the right as you walked into the building, and her small front room was clogged with heavy furniture -- a big, round, oak dining table and chairs, a buffet, with a row of unclaimed letters inserted between the mirror and its frame.

Her hair was dyed, and her bloom was fading, and she must have been crowding forty, but she seemed to be one of those women who cling to the manners and graces of a pretty child of eight.

Her voice was ripe and full and her teeth flashed again in Sicilian brilliance before the warm curved lips met and her mouth settled in repose.