When the last nail was driven, and the lid duly planed and fitted, he lightly shouldered the coffin and went forward with it, inquiring whether they were ready for it yet in that direction. Overhearing the indignant but half-humorous cries with which the people on deck began to drive the coffin away, Queequeg, to every one’s consternation, commanded that the thing should be instantly brought to him, nor was there any denying him; seeing that, of all mortals, some dying men are the most tyrannical; and certainly, since they will shortly trouble us so little for evermore, the poor fellows ought to be indulged.
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Freed from its enemy, stopped short
The field mouse, now that it was freed from its enemy, stopped short; and coming slowly up to the Woodman it said, in a squeaky little voice: Oh, thank you! Thank you ever so much for saving my life. Don’t speak of it, I beg of you, replied the Woodman. I have no heart, you know, so I am careful to help all those who may need a friend, even if it happens to be only a mouse. Only a mouse! cried the little animal, indignantly. Why, I am a Queen, the Queen of all the Field Mice! Continue Reading
The Tin Woodman gave a sigh of satisfaction and lowered his axe
“What can I do for you?” she inquired softly, for she was moved by the sad voice in which the man spoke. Get an oil-can and oil my joints,” he answered. They are rusted so badly that I cannot move them at all; if I am well oiled I shall soon be all right again. You will find an oil-can on a shelf in my cottage. Continue Reading
He read and re-read the paper, fearing the worst had happened to me.
He read and re-read the paper, fearing the worst had happened to me. He was restless, and after supper prowled out again aimlessly. He returned and tried in vain to divert his attention to his examination notes. He went to bed a little after midnight, and was awakened from lurid dreams in the small hours. Continue Reading
Other poets have warbled praises of soft eye of the antelope
Still, we can hypothesize, even if we cannot prove and establish. My hypothesis is this: that the spout is nothing but mist. And besides other reasons, to this conclusion I am impelled, by considerations touching the great inherent dignity and sublimity of the Sperm Whale Continue Reading