"Throb" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... distance he heard the shriek of an engine's whistle. They were coming now if they came at all! In spite of himself, his hope revived. To believe that they had failed was out of the question, and the beat of his pulse and the throb ...
— The Just and the Unjust • Vaughan Kester
... an easy pace had twice circled them, when Farrel descried, at the top of a tower, a white handkerchief waved by a woman's hand through the iron bars that secured the window. This signal being pointed out to Renaldo, his heart began to throb with great violence; he made a respectful obeisance towards the part in which it appeared, and perceiving the hand beckoning him to approach, advanced to the very buttress of the turret; upon which, seeing something drop, he alighted with great expedition, ...
— The Adventures of Ferdinand Count Fathom, Complete • Tobias Smollett
... turmoiling ocean? What seeks the tossing throng, As it wheels and whirls along? On! on! the lustres Like hellstars bicker: Let us twine in closer clusters, On! on! ever closer and quicker! How the silly things throb, throb amain! Hence all quiet! Hither riot! Peal more proudly, Squeal more loudly, Ye cymbals, ye trumpets! bedull all pain, ...
— The Old Man of the Mountain, The Lovecharm and Pietro of Abano - Tales from the German of Tieck • Ludwig Tieck
... neighbourhood. Hither the mistress, left neglected at home all the year, can steal and observe the development of the returned lover who has forgotten her, and think as she watches him over her prayer-book that he may throb with a renewed fidelity when novelties have lost their charm. And hither a comparatively recent settler like Eustacia may betake herself to scrutinize the person of a native son who left home before her advent upon the ...
— The Return of the Native • Thomas Hardy
... a circular cushioned seat running round the bay, with a small table in the middle, and this was the place where the girls loved to sit and sew, while their tongues kept pace with their needles. When Hatty's back ached, or the light made her head throb with pain, she used to bring her low chair and leave the ...
— Our Bessie • Rosa Nouchette Carey
... when griefs assail me sore? My friend, who sleeps in the cold earth, comes to my aid no more! No relatives, alas! of mine in this strange clime appear, No wife imparts love's fond caress, sweet smile, or pitying tear; No father feels joy's thrilling throb, as he our transport sees; No gay and sportive little ones come clambering on my knees;— Take back all honours, wealth, and fame, the heart they cannot move, And give instead the smiles of friends, the ...
— The Bakchesarian Fountain and Other Poems • Alexander Pushkin and other authors
... feel glad. Was a pledge entered only on her side? — was there not an assurance given somewhere, by lips that cannot lie, that prayer earnestly offered should not be in vain? She could not recall the words, but she was sure of the thing; and there was more than one throb of pleasure, and a tiny shoot of grateful feeling in her heart, before Elizabeth went back to her book. What was the next 'obligation'? She ...
— Hills of the Shatemuc • Susan Warner
... far off, and there the Hunns and others also made night melodious. The whole air was one throb and thrump. The only refuge from it was to go into one of the gardens, and give yourself over to one band. And so it was possible to have delightful music, and see the honest Germans drink beer, and gossip in friendly fellowship and with occasional hilarity. But music ...
— Baddeck and That Sort of Thing • Charles Dudley Warner
... further claim on your young heart, Mine is the victim, and would be again; To love too much has been the only art I used;—I write in haste, and if a stain Be on this sheet, 't is not what it appears; My eyeballs burn and throb, but have no tears. ...
— Don Juan • Lord Byron
... interminable; but at last, to his delight, a faint gleam of light spread across the sky. Stronger and stronger did it become until the day was fairly broken. It was another hour before he heard voices approaching. Almost holding his breath he listened as they approached, and his heart gave a throb of delight as he heard that they were speaking in Swedish. A victory had been won, then, for had it not been so, it would have been the Imperialists, not the Swedes, who would have been searching ...
— The Lion of the North • G.A. Henty
... heart-breaking sentences. John had a hard time writing his Gospel. He was not simply writing a book. That might have been fairly easy for him with his personal knowledge and all the facts so familiar. But he is telling about his dearest Friend. And the telling makes his heart throb harder, and his eyes fill up, and the writing look dim to him, as he tries to put ...
— Quiet Talks on John's Gospel • S. D. Gordon
... human personality, nor does it destroy our interest in anything that like us is permanent. We feel perfectly secure when we have identified ourselves with the business of the Kingdom of God. Then we almost feel the throb of our immortality; the power of an endless life is now ours. We have not to wait for death and resurrection to endue us with that power because it is the gift of God to us here, that gift of enternal life which our Lord ...
— Our Lady Saint Mary • J. G. H. Barry
... and faith, that cannot turn away from dwelling on the miracle of mercy revealed to it unworthy. God delights in the sweet monotony and persistence of such reiterated prayers, each of which represents a fresh throb of desire and a renewed bliss in thinking of His goodness. Observe the frequency and variety of the divine names in these verses,—in each, one, at least: Jehovah God (v. 25); Jehovah of hosts (v. 26); Jehovah of hosts, God ...
— Expositions Of Holy Scripture - Volume I: St. Luke, Chaps. I to XII • Alexander Maclaren
... galleries too—the room in the Borghese where, before Correggio's 'Danae' Elena smiled as at her own reflection; and the Mirror Room, where her image glided among the Cupids of Ciro Ferri and the garlands of Mario de' Fiori; the chamber of Heliodorus, where Raphael has succeeded in making the dull walls throb and palpitate with life; and the apartments of the Borgias, where the great fantasia of Penturicchio unfolds its marvellous web of history, fable, dreams, caprices and audacities; and the Galatea Room, through which ...
— The Child of Pleasure • Gabriele D'Annunzio
... (albeit I found my legs mighty unwilling) came out upon the plateau, but look how and where I might, saw only a desolation of sea and beach, whereupon, being greatly disquieted, I set out minded to seek her. By the time I reached Deliverance the sun was well up, its heat causing my wound to throb and itch intolerably, and I very fretful and peevish. But as I tramped on and no trace of her I needs must remember how I had sought her hereabouts when I had thought her dead, whereupon a great and unreasoning panic seized me, and I began to run. And then, all at once, I spied her. She was ...
— Black Bartlemy's Treasure • Jeffrey Farnol
... contained as many. They flutter down like snowflakes, and strut and swell themselves out, and furl and unfurl their tails, and peck with little sharp movements of their silly, sensual heads and a little throb and gurgle in their throats, while Dionea lies stretched out full length in the sun, putting out her lips, which they come to kiss, and uttering strange, cooing sounds; or hopping about, flapping her arms slowly like wings, and raising her little ...
— Hauntings • Vernon Lee
... no, nor can; This hour has made the boy a man. I knelt before my slaughtered sire, Nor felt one throb of vengeful ire. I wept upon his marble brow, Yes, wept! I was a child; but now My noble mother, on her knee, Hath done the work ...
— Poems Teachers Ask For, Book Two • Various
... be perceived that beyond the ligature neither in the wrist nor anywhere else do the arteries pulsate, that at the same time immediately above the ligature the artery begins to rise higher at each diastole, to throb more violently, and to swell in its vicinity with a kind of tide, as if it strove to break through and overcome the obstacle to its current; the artery here, in short, appears as if it were permanently full. The hand under such circumstances ...
— A History of Science, Volume 2(of 5) • Henry Smith Williams
... by the frost, but one day she was moved by a quality, hitherto unsuspected, in the delicate tracery against the sky made by the slender branches of the great elms and maples. She halted on the pavement, her eyes raised, heedless of passers-by, feeling within her a throb of the longing that could be so oddly ...
— The Crossing • Winston Churchill
... and loved you in the world: May be! flower that's full-blown tempts the butterfly, not flower that's furled. But more learned sense unlocked you, loosed the sheath and let expand Bud to bell and out-spread flower-shape at the least warm touch of hand —Maybe throb of heart, beneath which,—quickening farther than it knew,— Treasure oft was disembosomed, scent all strange and unguessed hue. Disembosomed, re-embosomed,—must one memory suffice, Prove I knew an Alpine rose which all ...
— Robert Browning • Edward Dowden
... no fear. I am sure my pulse did not give a throb the more for this menace. So deadly weak and helpless as I lay, it was unnecessary to shoot me. The slightest blow from the but of the rifle would have driven the last faint spark of life out of my exhausted body. I looked ...
— Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine - Volume 54, No. 338, December 1843 • Various
... When he answered, "To-morrow morning." Miss Gauntlet recommended him to the hospitality of her own footman, desiring him to make much of Mr. Pipes below, where he was kept to supper, and very cordially entertained. Our young heroine, impatient to read her lover's billet, which made her heart throb with rapturous expectation, retired to her chamber as soon as possible, with a view of perusing ...
— The Adventures of Peregrine Pickle, Volume I • Tobias Smollett
... Often I had noted the irregular beat of her heart—a throb, a long pause, a flutter, a short pause, a throb. And I could remember that more than once the sound had been followed by the shadowy appearance, in the door of my mind, of one of those black thoughts which try to tempt hope but only make it ...
— The Plum Tree • David Graham Phillips
... a door. His pulses seemed to throb in rhythm with the engines whose strong pulsations shook those limp unconscious forms. He opened the iron door and looked out. Only blackness, relieved by a low-power electric light, met his gaze. ...
— A Man and His Money • Frederic Stewart Isham
... him labor only for himself; nor forget that the humblest man that lives is his brother, and hath a claim on his sympathies and kind offices; and that beneath the rough garments which labor wears may beat hearts as noble as throb under the ...
— Morals and Dogma of the Ancient and Accepted Scottish Rite of Freemasonry • Albert Pike
... nothing to recommend me to the eye or heart, and let myself be drawn away, asking nothing, anticipating nothing, till I found myself alone with him in the fragrant recesses of the conservatory, with only the throb of music in our ears to link us to the scene we ...
— The Woman in the Alcove • Anna Katharine Green
... down beside the form of the old man, and laid his trembling hand upon the heart that had ceased to throb forever. ...
— Bucholz and the Detectives • Allan Pinkerton
... leading man was nearly within gunshot, the captain's face began to burn, and his pulses to throb hard and fast. ...
— The Adventures of Captain Horn • Frank Richard Stockton
... the winds of the icy north whistling round me here! I am the strongest man among you. Why? I have fought through hardships that have laid the best-seasoned men of all our party on their backs. Why? What have I done, that my life should throb as bravely through every vein in my body at this minute, and in this deadly place, as ever it did in the wholesome breezes of home? What am I preserved for? I tell you again, for the coming of one day—for the meeting with ...
— The Frozen Deep • Wilkie Collins
... shadow; by some strange trick of the atmosphere the sun seemed to have sought out only that graceful structure for its blessing. And then there was a dull rumble. It was the first omnibus,—the first throb in the great artery of the reviving city. I looked up. The ...
— Drift from Two Shores • Bret Harte
... so quickly throb, And never heart so loudly panted; [56] He looks, he cannot choose but look; Like some one reading in a book—[57] A book ...
— The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth, Vol. II. • William Wordsworth
... observe it well. They, too, seek localities where Art and Genius dwell, or have painted on canvas or sculptured in marble their memorials; they become acquainted with the people, both famed and obscure, of the lands which they visit and in which for a time they abide; their hearts throb as they stand on places where great deeds have been done, with whose dust perhaps is mingled the sacred ashes of men who fell in the warfare for truth and freedom,—a warfare begun early in the world's history, and not yet ended. ...
— At Home And Abroad - Or, Things And Thoughts In America and Europe • Margaret Fuller Ossoli
... the evening I went with Safti and the Caid of the Nomads to the great cafe of the dancers in the outskirts of the town. At the door Arab soldiers were lounging. The pipes squealed within like souls in torment. In the square bonfires were blazing fiercely, and the whole desert seemed to throb with beaten drums. Within the cafe was a crowd of Arabs, real nomads, some in rags, some richly dressed, all gravely attentive to the dancers, who entered from a court on the left, round which their ...
— Smain; and Safti's Summer Day - 1905 • Robert Hichens
... braid was wove, And first my Agnes whisper'd love. Since then, how often hast thou press'd The torrid zone of this wild breast, Whose wrath and hate have sworn to dwell With the first sin which peopled hell; A breast whose blood's a troubled ocean, Each throb the earthquake's wild commotion!—O, if such clime thou canst endure, Yet keep thy hue unstain'd and pure, What conquest o'er each erring thought Of that fierce realm had Agnes wrought! I had not wander'd wild and wide, With such ...
— Old Mortality, Complete, Illustrated • Sir Walter Scott
... (there or there-about) to some conventional standard. Here were a cabinet portrait to which Hawthorne perhaps had done justice; and yet not Hawthorne either, for he was mildly minded, and it lay not in him to create for us that throb of the miser's pulse, his fretful energy of gusto, his vast arms of ambition clutching in he knows not what: insatiable, insane, a god with a muck-rake. Thus, at least, looking in the bosom of the miser, ...
— Across The Plains • Robert Louis Stevenson
... precious stones could add any charm. The queen walked slowly from the vestry door toward the altar, with uplifted eyes, holding in one hand a book, in the other a rosary. Zbyszko saw the lily-like face, the blue eyes, and the angelic features full of peace, kindness and mercy, and his heart began to throb with emotion. He knew that according to God's command he ought to love the king and the queen, and he did in his way; but now his heart overflowed with a great love, which did not come by command, but burst forth like a flame; his heart was also filled with the greatest worship, humility ...
— The Knights of the Cross • Henryk Sienkiewicz
... beautiful girl had come into his lonely, misunderstood life like the sweet invigorating breath of spring, and he could not bear the thought that anyone else should have the slightest claim upon her. It was the jealous unreasoning throb of a first great love. The cabin seemed to be unusually close. He must have fresh air, and he wanted to be by himself that he might think. With a bound he was up the stairs to ...
— Jess of the Rebel Trail • H. A. Cody
... sowing. As in the still mornings of summer the earliest awakened bird hesitates to utter, yet utters, his solitary pipe, timidly rippling the silence, but is not long alone, for quickly the melodious throb begins to beat in every tree-top, and soon the whole rapturous grove gushes and palpitates into song,—even so, thus to appearance alone and unsupported, begins that chant of belief which is destined to heave and roll in ...
— Atlantic Monthly, Volume 14, No. 84, October, 1864 - A Magazine Of Literature, Art, And Politics • Various
... his own. The waters spoke a hundred dialects Of one great language; now with pattering fall Of raindrops on the glistening leaves, and now With steady roar of rivers rushing down To meet the sea, and now with rhythmic throb And measured tumult of tempestuous waves, And now with lingering lisp of creeping tides,— The manifold discourse of many waters. But most of all the human voice was full Of infinite variety, and ranged Along ...
— The Poems of Henry Van Dyke • Henry Van Dyke
... is music, and my soul obeys Each motion, as a lute to cunning fingers I see the earth throb for her as she sways Wave-like in air, and like a great flower lingers Heavily over all, as loath to leave What loves her so, and for ...
— The Shaving of Shagpat • George Meredith
... throb of dismay. It would be possible to get the door down by the aid of a battering ram, if the boys outside could find a sufficiently large log and had the strength ...
— The Grammar School Boys Snowbound - or, Dick & Co. at Winter Sports • H. Irving Hancock
... arms, and there was an awful pause of about three minutes, during which the men, pulling off their bonnets, raised their faces to heaven, and uttered a short prayer; then pulled their bonnets over their brows and began to move forward at first slowly. Waverley felt his heart at that moment throb as it would have burst his bosom. It was not fear, it was not ardour—it was a compound of both, a new and deeply energetic impulse, that with its first emotion chilled and astounded, then fevered and maddened his mind. The sounds around him combined to exalt his enthusiasm; ...
— English Literature For Boys And Girls • H.E. Marshall
... of the women and children I thought most, and their probable fate if we failed to win a passage. The half-framed thought of such a possibility made my heart throb with dread apprehension, as I set my lips together in firm resolve. What had become of Roger Matherson's orphan child? 'T was indeed strange that I could gain no trace of the little girl. At the Fort they said she was with the Kinzies, at ...
— When Wilderness Was King - A Tale of the Illinois Country • Randall Parrish
... feverish searching in the wrong places, digging for gold where the ground had glittered. And, if the choice had been given her, she would have preferred his spiritual to his bodily companionship—for a while, at least. Some day, when she should feel sure that desire had ceased to throb, when she should have acquired an unshakable and absolute resignation, she would see him. It is not too much to say, if her feeling be not misconstrued and stretched far beyond her own conception of it, that he was her ...
— The Crossing • Winston Churchill
... Peggy from the little platform where she sat in the old mahogany chair, she thought with a throb of satisfaction that she was glad she didn't have to change places with that homely little thing. Evidently, Peggy was just up from a severe illness. Her hair had been cut so short one could scarcely tell the color of it. She was so thin and white that her eyes looked too large for her face ...
— Georgina of the Rainbows • Annie Fellows Johnston
... voices were heard, and at the sound, Janet's heart leaped up with a throb of pain, but in words she gave ...
— Janet's Love and Service • Margaret M Robertson
... slight quiver in the fingers lying within his palm, and Beryl's face turned on the pillow, bringing her head against his shoulder. Was it the magnet of his touch drawing her unconsciously toward him, or merely the renewal of strength, attested already by the quickened throb of the pulse that beat under his clasp? By degrees her breathing became audible to his strained ear, and once a sigh, such as escapes a tired child, told that nature was rallying her physical forces, and that the tide was turning. Treacherous to his plighted troth, and to the trusting woman ...
— At the Mercy of Tiberius • August Evans Wilson
... moonlit night from the stricken city! What tumult of mingled sounds! What a myriad of splintering, reverberating crashes, bursting upward into the night; echoing away, renewed again and again so that it all was a vast pulsing throb of terrible sound. And under it, inaudible, what faint little sounds must have been the agonized screams of the ...
— The White Invaders • Raymond King Cummings
... still repeat his name, While countless tongues his full-orbed life rehearse, Love, by his beating pulses taught, will claim The breath of song, the tuneful throb of verse,— ...
— The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 15, No. 90, April, 1865 • Various
... not mad," she replied, in a changed and subdued tone; "but do not forget (and let it be on your knees) to thank God that my mother is dead; and that the cold clay presses the temples, which, if they were alive, would throb and burn as mine ...
— The Buccaneer - A Tale • Mrs. S. C. Hall
... fact, exhausted, with no strength but that supplied him by his heart, and maddened more and more by the rapidity of his course and the feeling of danger, Gaston felt his head turn, his temples throb, and the perspiration of his limbs was tinged ...
— The Regent's Daughter • Alexandre Dumas (Pere)
... the river plunge and roar As roars the angry mob; He feels the solid building quake, The trusty timbers throb. ...
— The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition Vol. XXII (of 25) • Robert Louis Stevenson
... I replied. If I had been fascinated by this lovely girl before, I now bowed in respect before her dignity and resolution; and, with my sympathy, there was a delicious throb of self-respect united, when I heard her lay down so simply, as principles of her life, two principles on which I had always myself tried to live. The half-expressed habits of my boyhood and youth were now uttered for me as axioms ...
— If, Yes and Perhaps - Four Possibilities and Six Exaggerations with Some Bits of Fact • Edward Everett Hale
... uncertainty, and Thyrsis swept on in his swift, half-incoherent exclamations. He would take no refusal; for half his madness was terror of himself, and he knew it. And then suddenly, as he cried out to her, the girl whispered, faintly, "All right!" And his heart gave a throb that hurt him. ...
— Love's Pilgrimage • Upton Sinclair
... your piquant chin, Your lips whose odours of violet Drive men to madness and saints to sin,— I see you over the footlights' glare Down in the pit 'mid the common mob,— Your throat is burning, and brown, and bare, You lean, and listen, and pulse, and throb; The viols are dreaming between us two, And my gilded crown is no make-believe, I am more than an actor, dear, to you, For you called me your king but yester eve, And your heart is my ...
— Flint and Feather • E. Pauline Johnson
... heard the throb of the ship under his feet. It was his fight, and brain and muscle reacted to it almost as if it had been a physical thing. And his end of that fight he was determined to win, if it took every year ...
— The Alaskan • James Oliver Curwood
... manufactories of New England, and in the cotton-gins of the South. It shall be proclaimed by the Stars and Stripes in every sea of earth, as the American Union, one and indivisible; upon the great thoroughfares, wherever steam drives, and engines throb and shriek, its greatness and perpetuity shall be hailed with gladness. It shall be lisped in the earliest words, and ring in the merry voices of childhood, and swell to Heaven upon the song of maidens. It shall live in the stern resolve ...
— The American Union Speaker • John D. Philbrick
... busy labor without rest? Is it an idle dream to which we cling, Here where a thousand dusky toilers sing Unto the world their hope? "Build we our best. By hand and thought," they cry, "although unblessed." So the great engines throb, and anvils ring, And so the thought is wedded to the thing; But what shall be the end, and what the test? Dear God, we dare not answer, we can see Not many steps ahead, but this we know— If all our toilsome building ...
— The Book of American Negro Poetry • Edited by James Weldon Johnson
... Sir Lionel was, we can tell you that in his soul "the scientific combinations of thought could educe no fuller harmonies of the good and the true than lay in the primaeval pulses which floated as an atmosphere around it!" and that, when he was sealing a letter, "Lo! the responsive throb in that good man's bosom echoed back in simple truth the honest witness of a heart that condemned him not, as his eye, bedewed with love, rested, too, with something of ancestral pride, on the undimmed ...
— The Essays of "George Eliot" - Complete • George Eliot
... sort of throb communicated itself to him, and then another, and then he heard a smothered sound. This magnificent creature, this independent, experienced, strong-minded, superior, dazzling creature was crying—was, indeed, sobbing. And cabs are so small, and she was so close. Pleasure may be so keen ...
— A Great Man - A Frolic • Arnold Bennett
... of an invisible finger upon our lips when we would speak, the heart-throb of warning where we would love, that we grow contemptuous of the prizes of life, does not mean that the spirit has ceased from its labors, that the high-built beauty of the spheres is to topple mistily into ...
— Imaginations and Reveries • (A.E.) George William Russell
... somewhere in the corridor, and shortly afterwards there was a second voice in the sitting-room, but I could not hear the words that were spoken. I suppose it was Hobson's low voice, for after another short interval of silence there came the thrum and throb of a motor-car and the rumble of india-rubber wheels on the wet gravel of the courtyard in front ...
— The Woman Thou Gavest Me - Being the Story of Mary O'Neill • Hall Caine
... crafty warriors Nearly filled him full of lead. Yellow men and yellow fever, Tried to cut off his career; But since he first hit the war trail, He has never slipped a year. And the heart of all the nation Gives a patriotic throb, At the news that Kansas Funston Has again gone on ...
— Rhymes of the Rookies • W. E. Christian
... throb of the steamer was the only noise heard save some weird cry of animal or bird in the dense jungle on either side. But every now and then as the waves and wash of the steamer rolled ashore, churning up the mud, they startled the dull, heavy alligators into activity, ...
— Middy and Ensign • G. Manville Fenn
... land in every part The strong throb of a nation's heart? As its great leader gave, with reverent awe, His pledge to Union, Liberty, ...
— Washington's Birthday • Various
... for all that is manly and pure in heroic poetry. One knows—at least every schoolboy has known—that a passage of Homer, rolling along in the hexameter or trumped out by Pope, will give one a hot glow of pleasure and raise a finer throb in the pulse; one knows that Homer is the easiest, most artless, most diverting of all poets; that the fiftieth reading rouses the spirit even more than the first—and yet we find ourselves (we are all alike) painfully pshaw-ing over some new and uncut barley sugar in rime, ...
— The Best of the World's Classics, Restricted to Prose, Vol. VI (of X)—Great Britain and Ireland IV • Various
... her—nothing but now and then a long glance, a kiss, a pressure of the hand; and he had so often longed that they should be alone together. They were going to be alone now; but he saw her standing inexorably aloof from him. His heart gave a great throb as he saw the door move: Romola was there. It was all like a flash of lightning: he felt, rather than saw, the glory about her head, the tearful appealing eyes; he felt, rather than heard, the cry of love ...
— Romola • George Eliot
... interests of trade guided legislation, this branch of commerce possessed paramount attractions. Not a statesman exposed its enormities; and, if Richard Baxter echoed the opinions of Puritan Massachusetts, if Southern drew tears by the tragic tale of Oronooko, if Steele awakened a throb of indignation by the story of Inkle and Yarico, if Savage and Shenstone pointed their feeble couplets with the wrongs of 'Afric's sable children,' if the Irish metaphysician Hutcheson, struggling for a higher system of morals,—justly stigmatized the traffic; yet no public ...
— History of the Negro Race in America From 1619 to 1880. Vol 1 - Negroes as Slaves, as Soldiers, and as Citizens • George W. Williams
... the drama have a similar stimulating and refining influence when they are not debauched by a sordid commercialism. They strengthen the noblest impulses, stir the blood to worthy deeds by their rhythmic or pictorial influence, unite individual hearts in worship or play, throb in unison with the sentiments that through all time have swayed human life. Often they have catered to the lower instincts, and have served for cheap amusement or entertainment not worth while, but concert-hall and theatre alike are capable of an educative work that can ...
— Society - Its Origin and Development • Henry Kalloch Rowe
... crocodiles, orang-utans ... pagodas and palaces ... shaven-headed priests in yellow robes ... flaming fire-trees ... the fragrance of frangipani ... green jungle and steaming tropic rivers ... white moonlight on the long white beaches ... the throb of war-drums and the tinkle of ...
— Where the Strange Trails Go Down • E. Alexander Powell
... Wimperley felt a throb of interest. The power question in Philadelphia was up at the moment, but it was power developed from coal and ...
— The Rapids • Alan Sullivan
... firmly gripping the steering wheel, anticipating every move of the storm-tossed Wondership like a skillful pilot, felt his pulses throb. There was something fine in battling with the elements like this in a stanch craft they had perfected. He felt that no other airship then in existence would have been able ...
— The Boy Inventors' Radio Telephone • Richard Bonner
... Soho where Mr. Beresford was imprisoned. Of course, at the time I didn't even know if I was in London. One thing was worrying me dreadfully, but my heart gave a great throb of relief when I saw my ulster lying carelessly over the back of a chair. AND THE MAGAZINE WAS STILL ...
— The Secret Adversary • Agatha Christie
... just where to find them. He must not only look after all the detail connected with the advertising, but must be able to analyze the conditions which confront him, grasp every possibility of the field, be wide awake to every change, sensitive to every trade throb, and have such a command of the English language as will express his ideas in a captivating and original manner. He is the artist who, having the ability and talent, either inherent or acquired, paints the picture ...
— How Department Stores Are Carried On • W. B. Phillips
... damps Which hover close on Europe's shackled soil. Content to tread awhile the holy steps Of Art and Genius, sacred through all time, The spirit breathed that dull, oppressive air— Which, freighted with its tyrant-clouds, o'erweighs The upward throb of many a nation's soul— Amid those olden memories, felt the thrall. But kept the birth-right of its freer home, Here, on the world's blue highway, comes again The voice of Freedom, heard amid the roar Of sundered ...
— Views a-foot • J. Bayard Taylor
... clothing her image with charms to which she could not lay claim. In very truth, he whom such vast interests summoned, and whom so many women smiled upon invitingly, had, since the previous evening, consecrated every moment of his time, every throb of his heart, to this sole dream. It was, indeed, either too much, or not sufficient. The indignation of the king, making him forget everything, and, among others, that Saint-Aignan was present, was poured out in the most violent imprecations. True it is, that Saint-Aignan had taken refuge ...
— Ten Years Later • Alexandre Dumas, Pere
... for a moment in the shadows and listened to the throb of the car until it melted into the roar of the city's life, her heart beating with a joy so ...
— The Foolish Virgin • Thomas Dixon
... Russian, the immortal Koutousoff, had felt the pulse of his nation, and he was confident, while all the other chiefs felt as though the earth were rocking under them. The time for the extinction of Russia had not come; a throb of fierce emotion passed over the country; the people rose like one man, and the despot found himself held in check by rude masses of men for whom death had scant terrors. Koutousoff had a mighty people to support him, and he would have ...
— The Ethics of Drink and Other Social Questions - Joints In Our Social Armour • James Runciman
... hope or fear; who laid his plans so shrewdly that they came at last with less warning than any earthquake on the doomed community around; and who, when that time arrived, took the life of man, woman, and child, without a throb of compunction, a word of exultation, or an act of superfluous outrage? Mrs. Stowe's "Dred" seems dim and melodramatic beside the actual Nat Turner, and De Quincey's "Avenger" is his only parallel in imaginative literature. Mr. Gray, his counsel, rises into a sort ...
— Black Rebellion - Five Slave Revolts • Thomas Wentworth Higginson
... did none of these things. He had work waiting to his hand. A hunger was upon him to feel his pulse beating to the throb of steel on stone. From the road he made a sweep of a drive up to the building. The neighbours looked open-mouthed at the work for the days it went on. "Well, that finishes ...
— Waysiders • Seumas O'Kelly
... have no more life of my own!" she answered, while her low voice quivered with intense feeling. "It has all gone—to you! And yours has come to me!—is it not strange and almost sad? How your heart beats, poor boy!—I can hear it throb, throb—so fast!—here, where I am resting my head." She looked up, and her little white hand caressed his cheek. "Philip," she said very softly, "what are you thinking about? Your eyes shine so brightly—do you know you have ...
— Thelma • Marie Corelli
... Clouds of ink-black smoke floated from our funnel, tinged by the rising sun with every shade of yellow, red, and brown. Mirrored in the calm water below, lay the silent steamer—silent, save for the ceaseless revolution of her paddles, whose monotonous throb seemed like the beating of ...
— A Trip to Manitoba • Mary FitzGibbon
... fair to see, Nine-times folded in mystery: Though baffled seers cannot impart The secret of its labouring heart. Throb thine with Nature's throbbing breast, And all is clear from east to west. Spirit that lurks each form within Beckons to spirit of its kin; Self-kindled every atom glows,— And hints the ...
— Nature Mysticism • J. Edward Mercer
... were not altogether sorry, for despite the marvels of the old world there is no place like home. Hannah was eager to open the Boston house and air it; Jean rejoiced that each throb of the engine brought her nearer to her beloved doggie; Uncle Bob's fingers itched to be setting in place the Italian marbles he had ordered for the new house; and Giusippe waited almost with bated breath for his first sight of America, the ...
— The Story of Glass • Sara Ware Bassett
... trophies of his skill. The old man was still erect in form, strong in limb, and unflinching in spirit; and as he stood on the river bank watching the departure of an expedition destined to traverse the wilderness to the very shores of the Pacific, very probably felt a throb of his old pioneer spirit, impelling him to shoulder his rifle ...
— Historic Tales, Vol. 1 (of 15) - The Romance of Reality • Charles Morris
... first time after her return when she followed her father and mother up the aisle one Sunday in May when all the orchards were white. He thought, with a great throb of joy, that she looked quite well, that she must be well. If the red and white of her cheeks was a little too clear, he did not appreciate it. She was all in white, like the trees, with some white blossoms and plumes on ...
— Jerome, A Poor Man - A Novel • Mary E. Wilkins Freeman
... that I feel, I might have some hope of restraining it. But it is something more, something deeper, something which constrains me to look with her eyes, hear with her ears, and throb with her heart. My soul, rather than my senses, is enthralled. I want to win her, not for my own satisfaction, but to make her happy. I want to prove to her that goodness exists in this world—I, who came here to corrode and destroy; I, who am still pledged to do so. Ah, Felix, Felix, you ...
— The Circular Study • Anna Katharine Green
... hoped, the thought rose instantly in his revengeful nature that the Confederate officer had some design on Scoville. The latter watched the form recognized by the others as that of Whately with the closest scrutiny, and an immense throb of hope stirred his heart. Could it ...
— Miss Lou • E. P. Roe
... she was a woman now, and there was much that if she did not understand she at least could not doubt. The man whom she loved, loved her with an intensity at least equal to that which even now made her heart throb at the memory of his kiss. He loved her, longed for her, would have laid down his life for her even at the moment when he tore himself away from her arms. He loved her and longed for her even whilst his trembling fingers penned this ...
— "Unto Caesar" • Baroness Emmuska Orczy
... so thick and so voluminous, that it hung for miles along the windless night air, and its shadow lay far abroad in the moonlight upon the glittering alkali. As we continued to draw near, besides, a regular and panting throb began to divide the silence. First it seemed to me like the beating of a heart; and next it put into my mind the thought of some giant, smothered under mountains and still, with incalculable effort, fetching breath. I had heard of the railway, though I had not seen it, and I turned to ask the ...
— The Dynamiter • Robert Louis Stevenson and Fanny van de Grift Stevenson
... tramp of horse, as men at arms went out and returned with steeds hard ridden and covered with foam. She observed, too, that such domestics as she casually saw from her window were in arms. All this made her heart throb high, for it augured the approach of rescue; and besides, the bustle left the little garden more lonely than ever. At length the hour of noon arrived; she had taken care to provide, under pretence of her own wishes, which the pantler seemed disposed to indulge, such articles of food ...
— The Fair Maid of Perth • Sir Walter Scott
... she whispered softly, while from the grave of her buried hopes there came one wild heart-throb, one sudden burst of pain caused by the first sight of her rival, and then Rose Warner grew calm again, and those who saw the pressure of her hand upon her side dreamed not of the fierce pang within. She had asked her brother not to ...
— Maggie Miller • Mary J. Holmes
... therefore nameless. It was a new and marvellous interest in the world, a new sense of life in herself, of life in everything, a recognition of brother-existence, a life-contact with the universe, a conscious flash of the divine in her soul, a throb of the pure joy of being. She was nearer God than she had ever been before. But she did not know this—might never in this world know it; she understood nothing of what was going on in her, only felt it go on; it was not love of God that ...
— What's Mine's Mine • George MacDonald
... of people with sweet expressions, priests, men, women, and children pass up and down. On the platform there is heat and a feeling of great peace, the subdued chant of one or two people praying, the cluck of a hen, the fragrance of incense, and now and then the deep soft throb of one of the great bells, touched by a passing worshipper with the crown of a stag's horn. There are spaces of intense light, and cool shadows and shrines of glass mosaic, inside them Buddhas in marble or bronze—the ...
— From Edinburgh to India & Burmah • William G. Burn Murdoch
... into clear relief the familiar features, and dropping a brilliant spark into each of his wide, contemplative eyes. The effect was a thing of the stage: it lent him an added wistfulness, and I felt a pang of pity for him, and a throb of something not lower than love. He walked back to his bed, whistling, while I completed my preparations by fixing my ...
— Tell England - A Study in a Generation • Ernest Raymond
... night, since she was watching not for daylight but for that first stirring in the streets which tells that daylight is approaching. Having neither watch nor clock the stirring was all she had to go by. When it began to rumble and creak and throb faintly in and above the town she got ...
— The Dust Flower • Basil King
... whose hearts swell indignant at wrongs like these. Not one throb of anguish, not one tear of the oppressed, is forgotten by the Man of Sorrows, the Lord of Glory. In his patient, generous bosom he bears the anguish of a world. Bear thou, like him, in patience, and labor in love; for sure as he is God, "the year of his redeemed ...
— Uncle Tom's Cabin • Harriet Beecher Stowe
... and Harold waited. And his eager ears caught the faint throb of feeling in the low, almost ...
— The Snowshoe Trail • Edison Marshall
... the song is of protest against the tardiness of the tree, or of thanks in anticipation, or of exultation in race, or of rivalry, matters not; but one is inclined to the last theory, for none but males take part in it. The sun glints on their burnished breasts, their throats throb, their long bills quaver with enthusiastic effort, and the song still matters not, for it is but a thin twittering, so feeble and faint as to be inaudible a few yards off. Patience and stillness are the price of it. And with ...
— The Confessions of a Beachcomber • E J Banfield
... you are. You've not been yourself ever since you came here. I wish you'd never seen the place. It's stopped your work, it's making you into a person I hardly know, and it's made me horribly anxious about you.... Oh, how my hand is beginning to throb!" ...
— Widdershins • Oliver Onions
... keeping one arm half the length of the other. He filled the tube with water and placed the short arm in the fire. For a moment the surface of the liquid remained quiet, and then the pipe began to quiver; a slight overflow took place, without any sign of ebullition, and then suddenly, with a throb, the whole column was forced high into the air. With a tube, the long arm of which measured two feet and the bore of which was three-eighths of an inch, he sent a jet to the height of eighteen feet. Steam is generated in the short arm and presses down the water, causing an overflow ...
— Cave Regions of the Ozarks and Black Hills • Luella Agnes Owen
... mind returned back to her uncle she felt with a throb of excited anticipation that perhaps after all this evening was to prove the turning-point of her life. Her little escape into the streets, her posting of the letter, had been followed so immediately by Uncle Mathew's visit, ...
— The Captives • Hugh Walpole
... as if in terror at this close contact. There was a brief instant of breathlessness as the girl found herself swung out over the waters; then a short climb with O'Neil's protecting hand at her waist and she stood panting, radiant, upon steel decks which began to throb and tremble to the ...
— The Iron Trail • Rex Beach
... romance, neither does she deny to very humble personages the characters of heroes and heroines. Not that I have much to say in the first instance either of the place or the persons; the former being no more than a solitary room and a bed-closet, where yet the throb of life was as strong and quick as in the mansions of the great, and the latter composed of two persons—one, a decent, hard-working woman called Mrs. Hislop, whose duty in this world was to keep her employers clean in their clothes, wherein she stood next to the minister, insomuch as ...
— Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Vol. XXIII. • Various
... under her breath, so that she would remember them surely when she wanted to call them back to whisper to her heart in the dark of some night. "We two, a man and his wife"—only dimly, with the heart of a little child, did Dong-Yung understand and follow Foh-Kyung; but the throb of her heart answered the hidden ...
— O Henry Memorial Award Prize Stories of 1919 • Various
... of all this, and yet there was in him that which transcended Forsyteism. For it is written that a Forsyte shall not love beauty more than reason; nor his own way more than his own health. And something beat within him in these days that with each throb fretted at the thinning shell. His sagacity knew this, but it knew too that he could not stop that beating, nor would if he could. And yet, if you had told him he was living on his capital, he would have stared you down. No, no; a man did not live on his capital; ...
— Forsyte Saga • John Galsworthy
... Alan read out the lines, and then there was silence—on my part of stunned bewilderment, the bewilderment of a spirit overwhelmed beyond the power of comprehension by rushing, conflicting emotions. Alan pressed me closer to him, while the silence seemed to throb with the beating of his heart and the panting of his breath. But except for that he remained motionless, gazing at the golden message before him. At length I felt a movement, and looking up saw his face turned down towards mine, ...
— The Lock and Key Library • Julian Hawthorne, Ed.
... mean that Mary was in love, but that she had met, and for the first time felt the touch, yes even the subtle, unconscious, dominating force so sweet to woman, of the man she could love, and had known the rarest throb that pulses in that choicest of all God's perfect handiwork—a woman's heart—the throb that goes before—the John, the Baptist, as it were, ...
— When Knighthood Was in Flower • Charles Major
... time that Mrs. Pasmer had reasoned in this round; but the utterance of her thoughts seemed to throw a new light on them, and she took a courage from them that they did not always impart. She arrived at the final opinion expressed, with a throb of tenderness for the young fellow whom she believed eager to take her daughter from her, and now for the first time she experienced a desolation in the prospect, as if it were an accomplished fact. She was morally a bundle of finesses, but at the bottom of her heart her daughter was all the ...
— Henry James, Jr. • William Dean Howells
... said nothing for a few moments. He cleared his throat several times as if to speak, but still remained silent. Miss Earle gazed down at the restless, luminous water. The throb, throb of the great ship made the bulwarks on which their arms rested tremble ...
— In a Steamer Chair And Other Stories • Robert Barr |
