They are preoccupied riding herd on control panels, switches, flashing colored lights on pale green or gray consoles that look like business machines.

They are supplied, a batch at a time, by a secret source and are continually changed by Wisman or his staff, at random intervals.

They are mere fragments, just one portion of preprepared messages.

They are huge areas which have been swept by winds for so many centuries that there is no soil left, but only deep bare ridges fifty or sixty yards apart with ravines between them thirty or forty feet deep and the only thing that moves is a scuttling layer of sand.

They recognized that slavery was a moral issue and not merely an economic interest, and that to recognize it explicitly in their Constitution would be in explosive contradiction to the concept of sovereignty they had set forth in the Declaration of 1776 that `` all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among them are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

They are in general those fears that once seemed to have been amenable to prayer or ritual.

They are non-conformists on principle.

They are full of contempt for the institution of matrimony.

They feel they are leagued against a hostile, persecutory world, faced with the concerted malevolent opposition of squares and their hirelings, the police.

They for their part are convinced that Holmes is too `` unorthodox '' and `` theoretical '' to make a good detective.

They are presumed to have plunged to a common grave in this fatal embrace.

They are determined to prove something.

They tell us, sir, that we are free, because we have in one hand a ballot, and in the other a stock certificate.

They are very small, and in the form of haystacks, without either chimney or windows.

They are situated in the midst of trees, which hang over them, and appear truly romantick.

On December 21, the day that the Irish House of Commons petitioned for removal of Sir Constantine Phipps, their Tory Lord Chancellor, Molesworth reportedly made this remark on the defense of Phipps by Convocation: `` They that have turned the world upside down, are come hither also ''.

Defoe then commented, `` If they Could Draw that young Gentleman into Their Measures They would show themselves quickly, for they are not asham'd to Say They want only a head to Make a beginning ''.

They emerged as interchangeable cogs in a faulty but formidable machine: shaved nearly naked, hair queued, greatcoated, jackbooted, and best of all -- in the opinion of the British professional, Major Semple-Lisle -- `` their minds are not estranged from the paths of obedience by those smatterings of knowledge which only serve to lead to insubordination and mutiny ''.

They are longing to see you ''.

They are not true because scientists or prophets say they are true.

They crawled through the north fence and came on toward him, and now he saw that both were young, not more than nineteen or twenty.

They were dirty, their clothes were torn, and the girl was so exhausted that she fell when she was still twenty feet from the front door.

They were running from something.

They were a pair of lost, whipped kids, Morgan thought as he went to bed.

They passed ranches that were framed dark gray against the black hills.

They were tethered, army style, on stable lines.

They bawled questions that were not answered in the uproar.

They were about a mile off ; ;

They weren't sleeping, of course, but they thought they were doing him a favor by pretending.

They expected greater things from him, regardless of how trying the circumstances, and they were disappointed.

They were going to town, and they were both excited.

They were free.

They were in a fight, outweighed in both numbers and money.

They were sitting on their heels, rider-fashion, over by the still empty calf wagon.

They were considering it gravely, neither seeming to like what he planned.

They were silent for a little while, each looking glum.

They were all good men.

They were headed straight for each other on a collision course.

`` They were supposed to meet Thor at nine PM for a conference concerning the ad campaign for their soap, a new angle based on this SX-21 stuff ''.

They were married over the week-end, though he was easily sixty and she could not have been even thirty.

They were west of the Sabine, but only God knew where.

They were engulfed by the weird silence, broken only by the low, angry murmur of the river.

They were already swollen to bursting.