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

He didn't think it was possible for this couple to be pretending.

It must have hurt her even to walk, for the sole was completely off her left foot and Morgan saw that it was bruised and bleeding.

It was the only thing in his life for which he felt guilt.

He knew who was riding after him -- the men he had known all his life, the men who had worked for him, sworn their loyalty to him.

Still, I was disgusted with myself for agreeing with Montero's methods.

He was naked except for a clout.

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

Well, the grass was there, though in some places the ground was too steep for a cow to get to it.

But it was not easy for him and he often slipped.

Now, here was something of obvious importance to me, yet when I reached for the tickets he snatched them away from my hand.

It was, I felt, possible that they were men who, having received no tickets for that day, had remained in the hall, to sleep perhaps, in the corners farthest removed from the counter with its overhead light.

I was constantly searching for clues around the neighborhood of the hall.

No one was behind it, but in the rear wall of the office I noticed, for the first time, a door which had been left partially open.

Was I sure, he asked, that I knew what I was applying for??

At one and the same time, she was within it but still searching for the drawbridge that would give her entry.

That was the day that he had practically mopped up the main street of Big Sands with Aaron McBride, field boss for the Highlands Oil & Gas Company.

It was payday for Highlands, and he was packing a lot of money back into the oil fields.

I was just doing my job, just following orders, and for that he's going to kill me.

Somehow more terrible than the certainty that he was about to die was the knowledge that Lord would probably not suffer for it: the murder would go unpunished.

He was readying a batch of sourdough biscuits for the Dutch oven.

There was a light in Black's front room, but drawn curtains prevented any view of the interior.

Russ ran through the bills and named an amount it was highly unlikely any cowpuncher would come by honestly.

Fleischman with eight was to patrol the Leyte Gulf area, with his main task to get any kamikaze before they got to the ships.

There was little likelihood of any customers walking in at that hour.

Maybe he was only doing the best he knew how, like any of us.

No one seemed to know for sure what had happened, nor was there any purpose or responsibility in the muttering feet and urgent voices behind the driver, beyond finding out.

Keith was on his feet because he didn't care at all about life any more: Penny on her feet, proudly, because she cared too much.

He was the lawman who survived more gunfights than any other famous gun-slinging character in the book.

He was gifted with animal magnetism and a potent allure for women of any race.

That any sort of duty was owed by his nation to other nations would have astonished a nineteenth-century statesman.

There might have been a pool of cool water behind any of these tree-clumps: only -- there was not.

At the heart of all of this was the square, which one such traveler declared to be `` as spacious, as pleasant and aromatick a Market as any in the Universe ''.

It is true that New England, more than any other section, was dedicated to education from the start.

That is to say Gabriel's fundamental law had been so much modified by this time that it was neither fundamental nor law any more.

He gave us a simile to explain his admission that even at the worst period of his second illness it never occurred to him there was any renewed question about his running: as in the Battle of the Bulge, he had no fears about the outcome until he read the American newspapers.

When the possibility that he had not given reconsideration to so weighty a decision seemed to disconcert his questioners, Mr. Eisenhower was known to make his characteristic statement to the press that he was not going to talk about the matter any more.

The portrait that had developed, fragmentarily but consistently, was the portrait of a man to whom serious thinking is alien enough that the making of a decision inhibits, when it does not forestall, any ability to review the decision in the light of new evidence.

It may be that in this comment he has broken from the conventional pattern more violently than in any other regard, for the treatment in his books is far removed from even the genial irony of Ellen Glasgow, who was the only important novelist before him to challenge the conventional picture of planter society.

In any case, Miss Millay's sweet-throated bitterness, her variations on the theme that the world was not only well lost for love but even well lost for lost love, her constant and wonderfully tragic posture, so unlike that of Fitzgerald since it required no scenery or props, drew from the me that I was when I fell upon her verses an overwhelming yea.

He was right, and Peter Marshall could not help but recall Andrew Cordier's words on the subject, `` Well, it seemed as good a place as any to do the job ''.

The Hetman had a strong liking for a story, any story which was to be had by means of much sleuthing or by roundabout methods.

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.

He was in and out of Mount Alto Hospital for veterans any number of times.