Do not all charms fly at the mere touch of cold philosophy? There was an awful rainbow once in heaven: we know her woof, her texture; she is given in the dull catalogue of common things. Philosophy will clip an angel's wings, conquer all mysteries by rule and line, empty the haunted air, and gnome mine unweave a rainbow.
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... there is no way of measuring the damage to a society when a whole texture of humanity is kept from realizing its own power, when the woman...
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America is not like a blanket -- one piece of unbroken cloth, the same color, the same texture, the same size. America is more like a quilt -- many patches, many pieces, many colors, many sizes, all woven and held together by a common thread.
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If winds are the spirit of the sky's ocean, the clouds are the texture. Their is easily the most uninhibited dominion of the earth. Nothing in physical shape is too fantastic for them. They can be round as apples or as fine as string, as dense as a jungle, as wispy as a whiff of down, as mild as puddle water or as potent as the belch of a volcano. Some are thunderous anvils formed by violent up drafts from the warm earth. Some are ragged coattails of storms that have passed. Some are stagnant blankets of warm air resting on cold. I have seen clouds in the dawn that looked like a pink Sultan with his pale harem maidens and a yellow slob of eunuch lolling impotent in the background.
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America is not like a blanket: one piece of unbroken cloth, the same color, the same texture, the same size. America is more like a quilt: many patches, many pieces, many colors, many sizes, all woven and held together by a common thread.
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America is not like a blanket-one piece of unbroken cloth, the same color, the same texture, the same size. America is more like a quilt-many patches, many pieces, many colors, many sizes, all woven and held together by a common thread.
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America is not like a blanket: one piece of unbroken cloth, the same color, the same texture, the same size. America is more like a quilt: many patches, many pieces, many colors, many sizes, all woven and held together by a common thread
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A doctor can bury his mistakes but a supplier based engineer can only advise the product designer to specify a heavier texture.
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Upon looking back from the end of the last chapter and surveying the texture of what has been wrote, it is necessary, that upon this page and ...
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Golden brown texture like sun, Lays me down with my mind she runs. Throughout the night No need to fight Never a frown with golden brown Every time just like the last, On her ship tied to the mast. To distant lands Takes both my hands Never a frown with golden brown Golden brown finer temptress, Through the ages she's heading west. From far away Stays for a day Never a frown with golden brown
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I made the four minutes of the prelude entirely with the sound of hand-tools. At one point it sounds to me like you're inside an electron accelerator. And I've used recordings made by US Marines in 1945 in the Pacific Ocean, which give an idea of the sound and texture of that time.
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The web, then, or the pattern, a web at once sensuous and logical, an elegant and pregnant texture: that is style, that is the foundation of the art of literature.
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