The best antidote for the bitterness and disappointment that poisoned him was hard work.

It was the only thing about her that was the least bit hard to remember.

The flat, hard cap was small, but he thrust it to the back of his head.

clutched her throat and sucked up the moisture in her mouth so that her tongue was dry and hard and stuck to the roof of her mouth and her teeth were clenched together in the rigid fixture of her jaws.

He was an honest man doing a hard job, and the implication that he was anything else was unbearable.

He was looking out on the dark waters of the Lake when I came upon him and without wasting words I smacked him hard across the face.

Her laugh was hard.

It was snowing hard when they got there and they saw no horses outside.

Then when Miss Langford was on the end of the line of girls, Jack, in the middle of the line, gave an extra hard pull and the young teacher sprawled backwards, sitting down hard, her dress flying over her head.

It was Dandy Brandon, clad only in a bloody loincloth, emaciated and quaking as if the devil were breathing hard on him.

Thomas tried hard to have his cavalry ready for the test it was to meet, but his plans were wrecked when it was forced into a campaign without optimum mobility and with its commander stripped from it.

Banks the Butcher was a hard master and a hard father, a man who didn't seem to know the difference between the living flesh of his family and the hanging carcasses of his stock in trade.

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

Lewis was spending his mornings, with the help of two secretaries, on the galleys of that long novel, making considerable revisions, and the combination of hard work and hard frivolity exhausted him once more, so that he was compelled to spend three days in the Harbor Sanatorium in the last week of January.

He was thinking that the way she had responded to his own kiss hadn't meant what he had believed it had.

He might tell her how sorry a spectacle she was making of herself, pretending to be blind to the way Julia Fortune had taken Dean's affections from her.

Then he was on his way at a gallop.

In his mood, it was the best way to handle him ; ;

This, he was sure, was the way they would act ; ;

`` Fred was mighty crude about the way he took in cattle '' his own hired man, Andy Ross, mentioned later.

The mere fact that the tall figure with the rifle and field glasses had been seen riding that way was enough to frighten three rustling homesteaders out of the Upper Laramie country in a single week.

The hands and their bosses saw him as a lone knight of the range, waging a dedicated crusade against a lawless new society that was threatening a beloved way of life.

From the way the wound in his head was itching, Dan knew that it would heal.

She was glad, completely and unselfishly glad, to see that things were working out the right way for both Sally and Dan.

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.

All the doors were open at this hour except one, and it was toward this that Stevens made his way with Russ close at his shoulder.

Leading his pony, he hurried that way, not remounting till he was well below the level of the surrounding range.

There was, of course, no way for the other planes to get by them.

The way his red rubber lips were stretched across his pearly little teeth I thought he was only having a little joke, but, no, he wanted me to bend down from the roar of wind so he could roar something into my ear.

There was something about the contour of her face, her smile that was like New Orleans sunshine, the way she held her head, the way she walked -- there was scarcely anything she did which did not fascinate me.

It was nearly sundown and he went to the back of the wagon, half-swimming his way, for he was not a tall man.

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

Whoever was out there hiding in the brushy cover was besieging the Antler house and, having spotted his approach, was determined to drive him off before he could get into the fight.

In his fight for the Illinois and Indiana delegations, Hearst made several trips to Chicago to confer with Andrew Lawrence, the former San Francisco Examiner man who was now his Chicago kingpin, and once to meet with Bryan.

Ultimately Fosdick's `` Fit to fight '' slogan swept across the country and every well-known red-light district in the United States was closed, a hundred and ten of them.

Though Garibaldi's fight was small shakes compared to Pickett's Charge -- which, like all Southerners, I view in almost Miltonic terms, fallen angels, etc. -- I associated the two.

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

This term was also used by the cowboy in the sense of a human showin' fight, as one cowhand was heard to say, `` He arches his back like a mule in a hailstorm ''.

It was the story of the rhinoceros fight all over again.

John himself was bruised and clawed from head to tail, but he was in this fight to the finish, running almost as strongly now as in the morning.

This was a bitterly fought game, carrying almost as much grudge as a fist fight, with no friendliness exhibited between the teams except the formal politeness that accompanied the setting forth of ground rules and agreements on balls that went into the crowd.

) The sorry fact about this young man, who was barely of age when he broke into major-league baseball, was that he really was a better ball player than he was given credit for being -- never so good as he claimed, and always an irritant to his associates, but a good steady performer when he could fight down the temptation to orate on his skills or cut up in public.

I was told that it is quite likely that Japanese soldiers would not fight again -- for why should they??

Political, economic and military experts were all agreed that chaotic, mountainous little Laos was the last place in the world to fight a war -- and they were probably right.

Our endeavor to capture even a faint sense of how strenuous was the fight is muffled by our indifference to the very issue which in the Boston of 1848 seemed to be the central hope of its Christian survival, that of the literal, factual historicity of the miracles as reported in the Four Gospels.

None of us was aware that the biggest fight was still ahead.