"Merging" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... who remained, when the pinch came, would have no dogs. It was for this reason that Daylight and Elijah took the more desperate chance. They could not do less, nor did they care to do less. The days passed, and the winter began merging imperceptibly into the Northland spring that comes like a thunderbolt of suddenness. It was the spring of 1896 that was preparing. Each day the sun rose farther east of south, remained longer in the sky, and set farther to the west. March ...
— Burning Daylight • Jack London
... bench in the Governor's garden, in front of us the wide Severn merging into the bay, and glowing like molten gold in the setting sun. And I was thrilled with a strange reverence such as I have sometimes since felt in the ...
— The Crossing • Winston Churchill
... extremities, whose trunks fused into a single lower extremity. The King took diligent care of their education, and they became proficient in music, languages, and other court accomplishments. Between them they would carry on animated conversations, sometimes merging into curious debates, followed by blows. Above the point of union they had no synchronous sensations, while below, sensation was common to both. This monster lived twenty-eight years, surviving the royal patron, ...
— Anomalies and Curiosities of Medicine • George M. Gould
... his grasp of the singular entirety of mediaeval civilization, is Mr. Adams's power of merging himself in a long dead time, of thinking and feeling with the men and women thereof, and so breathing on the dead bones of antiquity that again they clothe themselves with flesh and vesture, call back ...
— Mont-Saint-Michel and Chartres • Henry Adams
... visible to the naked eye, in the neighbourhood of her crystal bright globe; but the clear depth, and dark translucent purity of the profound, when the eye tried to pierce into it at the zenith, where the stars once more shone and sparkled thick and brightly, beyond the merging influence of the pale cold orb, no man can describe now——one could, once—but rest his soul, he is dead and then to look forth far into the night, across the dark ridge of many a heaving swell of ...
— Tom Cringle's Log • Michael Scott
|
