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.

There, to the Evening Post, she emphatically denied the divorce rumors and explained that she had stayed behind because of the schooling of their son, which henceforth would be strictly American.

There were times now, like this, when she lost control of the time count and moved freely back and forth into three generations.

There was one of the new forte-pianos in the room and, as Claire rose to go, he asked her to sing him one song before she left.

There she extracted two limp vellum sheets and wrote off the letters, one to Abel, one to Mark.

There is a death in all partings, she knew, and promptly put it out of her mind.

There was not anything she could do there, but that was where everyone was, or would be.

There were times it wasn't right to make a person happy, like the times she came in the kitchen and asked know we don't keep peanut `` butter for a peanut butter sandwich.

There is reason to suppose that Lucy would have made a record as publicly distinguished as her brother had it not been that her mother's death occurred just as she was about to enter college.

There was a wet spot -- she couldn't have been gone long ''.

There they continued their studies at the university, she in art, he in architecture.

There also came a brief contretemps with the sound mixers who made the mistake of being overheard during a quiet moment near the conclusion of `` Do It Again '', and she made the tart observation that `` I never saw so much moving about in an audience ''.

There was a letter to write to her mother, and she tried to make its tone cheerful.

There was a momentary pause, and then her mother said, `` How long is she supposed to stay ''??

There she walked to the far left and leaned on a vacant section of banister, while the vendor picked himself another well-dressed American lady, carrying a camera and a handsome alligator bag, ascending the steps alone.

There are two types of allophones, based on whether a phoneme must be pronounced using a specific allophone in a specific situation, or whether the speaker has freedom to ( unconsciously ) choose which allophone he or she will use.

In 2007, she wrote that she did not want to belittle the issue but was sceptical of the claims that specific actions would prevent catastrophe, then in 2008 that her doubts had been “ crystalised ” by Nigel Lawson's book An Appeal to Reason, before stating in 2009 that " There is no climate change, hasn ’ t anybody looked out of their window recently?

Fay disappears, and hiding from the police, admits that she hopes for one miracle-for a hero who can come and deliver the town from the madness (“ There Won't Be Trumpets ”).

There is uncertainty about her intentions when she tells Job to curse God but it is clear that Job honors her by the way he talks about her in Chapter 31.

There she sketched and explored an area that nourished her imagination and her observation.

There is a belief that she was buried between platforms 9 and 10 in King's Cross station in London, England.

There he was cared for by the von Massow family and nursed by their daughter Charlotte.

Paul H. Meyer adds: " There is no question but that Voltaire, particularly in his latter years, nursed a violent hatred of the Jews and it is equally certain that his animosity ... did have a considerable impact on public opinion in France.

There, during his final months, Chatwin was nursed by both his wife and Shirley Conran.

There, he and his family nursed her until some of her children arrived to take her back to New York where, at the age of 57, she died.

There, the fairy Eadaoin took him to her grianán ( bower ) where she nursed him back to full health.

There he taught Mathematics and nursed sick students.

There he was nursed back to health and met the love of his life, a woman named Rhian.

There is only a shadowy legend that Mack was sick with fever and that Hononegah nursed him back to health.

There was only one place where the mountain might receive her -- that unnamed, unnameable pool harbored in its secret bosom.

There had been a good second or two during which my muffler had been blowing out, and now I was certain I'd seen her somewhere before.

There was, of course, more to the portrait of a lady you carried in your mind's eye than the sine qua non of her virtue.

There can be no greater magic than to wrest from death her in whom the flesh was all, in whom beauty was entirely pure because it was entirely corruptible.

There was a little blood on the hem of her dress, for the assassin had slashed Miss Harris's companion, Major Rathbone, with a knife.

There was an air of blindness in her gray eyes, the startled-horse look that ultimately comes to some women who are born at the end of an ancestral line long since divorced from money-making and which, besides, has kept its estate intact.

There was no reason for her to ask what they did.

In her opening remarks Mrs. Long also welcomed the Juniors and stated, `` There isn't any other show quite like Westminster.

There had been some coconut in it, for I remember my mother's taking a quick glance at a stringy bit of this nut on the cheek of one of them and then putting down her radish with a shiver.

There was evident delight on the part of the subject in response to her experience of the freedom of movement.

There hadn't been anything really personal in her interest in me.

There was no way to know, no way to guess whether any one of them was surprised at Sarah's appearance, believing her to be drugged and senseless -- and just possibly dead.

There was no reason for her to marry someone like Stanley Gilborn, there was no need for her to marry Stanley.

There was no sign of Mrs. Lauren Payne at her house on Nod Road, Ridgefield, Connecticut.

There were several fairly good minor portraits in the play, including William Hansen's impersonation of a stubborn, rather pathetic father, and Katherine Squire's vigorous characterization of a farm mother who brooked no hifalutin' nonsense from her daughter, or anyone else.

There was nothing wrong with her job.

There had been occasions when some of the more experienced had even addressed her in what might have been perfectly good Japanese.