And he was handsome, despite the long thin scar that slanted across his cheek.

The slender, handsome fellow was called Dandy Brandon by the other slaves.

But surely Michigan Avenue was handsome??

He was then a slightly built young man of pleasing appearance, medium stature, and handsome face.

He was a well-to-do, handsome, and sensitive young poet.

And this handsome booby, staring and sweating, was he her bridegroom??

First thing I knew he was in the kitchenette cooking up the breakfast and I was handing Eileen her coffeecup and she was lying there handsome as a queen among her courtiers.

Like Eliot, in my fantasies, I had a proud bearing and, with a skill that was vaguely continental, I would lead Jessica through an evening of dancing and handsome descriptions of my newest exploits, would guide her gently to the night's climax which, in my dreams, was always represented by our almost suffocating one another to death with deep, moist kisses burning with love.

Back in college, today's handsome Gander was the only male member of a Texas Tech class on food.

How strange it was that he could give her this handsome house and carte blanche as to its beautiful furnishings, and fail her in -- spiritual ways.

This refugee was a middle-aged man, a big, handsome man with a strut to his walk as I have never before seen.

The handsome bird was solitary ; ;

He was a bright and handsome young man from New York, who worked for the same steel company as John did.

What she felt was a bone-deep loss with a sense of waste to it, not so much sorrow for handsome, ambitious Bobbie, but for the lost years that had been brought into high relief by his death.

He was my nephew, my brother's son, handsome and warm and newly-scrubbed, with happiness upon his face and his face resembled my brother's and mine as well.

Absalom himself was caught by his head in the boughs of an oak-tree as the mule he was riding ran beneath it-an irony given that he was previously renowned for his abundant hair and handsome head.

Albert's personal qualities won for him the cognomen of the Bear, " not from his looks or qualities, for he was a tall handsome man, but from the cognisance on his shield, an able man, had a quick eye as well as a strong hand, and could pick what way was straightest among crooked things, was the shining figure and the great man of the North in his day, got much in the North and kept it, got Brandenburg for one there, a conspicuous country ever since ," says Carlyle, who called Albert " a restless, much-managing, wide-warring man.

Gavin's stallion was in the barn and he tightened the cinches over the saddle blanket, working by touch in the darkness, comforting the animal with easy words.

Cabot turned back to the men and he was drunk with the thing they would do, wild to break from the cloying warmth of the saloon into the cold of the ebbing night.

Gavin's face was bloodless with excitement.

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

His mouth was open, his neck corded with the strain of his screams.

Out in front of our walls the grass was covered with dead and dying men, war shields, lances, blankets and wounded and dead horses.

The morning air was filled with the sweetish odor of new-spilled blood, the acrid stench of frightened horses, and the bitterness of burned powder.

Above me a dark rider was whipping his pony with a quirt in an attempt to hurdle the bales.

He was shaking with anger, his breath coming in long, painful gasps.

The town was about what Wilson expected: one main street with its rows of false-fronted buildings, a water tower, a few warehouses, a single hotel ; ;

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.

He was a man in his late forties, with graying hair, of medium height ; ;

It was partially cemented by ages and pressure, yet it crumpled before the onslaught of the powerful streams, the force of a thousand fire hoses, and with the gold it held washed down through the long sluices.

The man was tall, thin, with a narrow face and a too-large nose.

The ground was covered with soft pine needles and the slope was gentle.

Was it not possible, after all, that the forest was in league with her and her child that its sympathy lay with the Culvers that she had erred in failing to understand this??

She regarded them as signs that she was nearing the glen she sought, and she was glad to at last be doing something positive in her unenunciated, undefined struggle with the mountain and its darkling inhabitants.

Having persisted too long in deliberate ignorance and denial of the forces that threatened her, Pamela was relieved now to admit their potency and to be taking definite steps toward grappling with them.

Unconcerned, indifferent, unmotivated, the forest was simply there -- fighting man's depredations with more abundant growth and man's follies with its own musical evening laughter.

Geoffrey Chaucer in the Canterbury Tales describes the clothing of the miller's wife, Alison: " Of white, too, was the dainty smock she wore, embroidered at the collar all about with coal-black silk, alike within and out.

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.

Both had blonde hair and blue eyes, and there was even a faint similarity of features.

Over the rapidly-diminishing outline of a jump seat piled high with luggage Herry's black brushcut was just discernible, near, or enviably near that spot where -- hidden -- more delicately-textured, most beautifully tinted hair must still be streaming back in cool, oh cool wind sweetly perfumed with sagebrush and yucca flowers and engine fumes.

At once my ears were drowned by a flow of what I took to be Spanish, but -- the driver's white teeth flashing at me, the road wildly veering beyond his glistening hair, beyond his gesticulating bottle -- it could have been the purest Oxford English I was half hearing ; ;

His advice, his voice saying his poems, the fact that he had not so much as touched her -- on the contrary, he had put his head back and she had stroked his hair -- this was all new.

The Grafin, who was charmed by her, told her, `` Your sister who was here two years ago has quite dark hair.

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

Her thick hair was the color and texture of charcoal.

Slender and tanned, her dark brown hair was drawn straight back, simply.

His hair was black, already greying at the temples in the classic beauty-idiom, the only one permitted to a man.

Charles, also fifteen, was tall and skinny, scraggly, with straight black hair like an Indian's and sharp brown eyes.

She was nude to the waist and her tumbled abundance of black hair did not conceal the knife slashes on her back.

Its ribs showed, it was a yellow nondescript color, it suffered from a variety of sores, hair had scabbed off its body in patches.

even when the fences became a part of the game -- when a vine-embowered gate-post was the Sleeping Beauty's enchanted castle, or when Rapunzel let down her golden hair from beneath the crocketed spire, even then we paid little heed to those who went by on the path outside.

Besides, Miss Henrietta -- as she was generally known since she had put up her hair with a chignon in the back -- had little time to spare them from her teaching and writing ; ;

His gray hair was thin, his face beginning to attract a swarm of wrinkles.

And when Alfred was forced into his bed, Tessie left the front porch of the store and sat at home, rocking in her rocker in the living room, staring out the window -- the rose still in her hair.

He was seeing, somehow, the face of a young boy, the boy Simms Purdew must once have been, a boy with sorrel hair, and blue eyes dancing with gaiety, and the boy mouth grinning trustfully among the freckles.

When McFeeley was halfway to the door, the proprietor emerged -- a mountainous, dark man, his head thick with resiny black hair, his eyes like two of the black olives he imported in boatloads.

There was a glass pane in the front door, and through this he could see into a hallway where a plump woman with red hair was arranging flowers.

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.