"Fowl" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... chin and flaccid face, with the same huge bunch of seals at his fob, rattling his money in his pockets as before, and receiving the Major as if he had gone away only a week ago. "Put the Major's things in twenty-three, that's his room," John said, exhibiting not the least surprise. "Roast fowl for your dinner, I suppose. You ain't got married? They said you was married—the Scotch surgeon of yours was here. No, it was Captain Humby of the thirty-third, as was quartered with the —th in Injee. Like any warm ...
— Vanity Fair • William Makepeace Thackeray
... into the vessels used; the second was to pour the same liquid into a sanded vessel, and at the bottom there was found nothing acrid or acid to the tongue, scarcely any stains; the third experiment was tried upon an Indian fowl, a pigeon, a dog, and some other animals, which died soon after. When they were opened, however, nothing was found but a little coagulated blood in the ventricle of the heart. Another experiment was ...
— CELEBRATED CRIMES, COMPLETE - THE MARQUISE DE BRINVILLIERS • ALEXANDRE DUMAS, PERE
... never morbid; tragic, if you like, but not without hope. We need not aspire too much; but we will not look at the stones in the road all the time. And the dunghills, in which those weird fowl, the pessimistic realists, love to rake, we will sedulously avoid. Cheer up, old fellow, and be thankful that you possess a ...
— The Collaborators - 1896 • Robert S. Hichens
... of the Downs to the right are hereabouts very beautiful; one of the spurs is occupied by Angmering Park belonging to the Duke of Norfolk. At Poling, on a tributary of the Arun southwards, is a decoy for wild fowl. Here is a Perpendicular church containing a fourteenth-century brass to a former priest, one Walter Davey. A chapel belonging to a commandery of the Knights of St. John still stands near the church; it has been converted into a ...
— Seaward Sussex - The South Downs from End to End • Edric Holmes
... proximity to the Massareens—all these are well and credibly drawn. But when we arrive at the fanatic wife of Anthony, in her Welsh castle, surrounded by rocks and blow-holes, and finally to that last great scene, where (if I followed events accurately) she trusses her ex-husband like a fowl, and trundles him in a wheel-barrow to the pyre of sacrifice, not the best will in the world could keep me convinced or even decorously thrilled. So I will content myself with repeating my advice to a clever writer in ...
— Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 152, May 30, 1917 • Various
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