"Whisp" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... their love's desire on edge, Are cut and prun'd like a quickset hedge; Some like a spade, some like a fork, some square, Some round, some mow'd like stubble, some stark bare; Some sharp, stiletto fashion, dagger-like, That may with whisp'ring, a man's eyes outpike; Some with the hammer cut, or roman T, Their Beards extravagant, reform'd must be; Some with the quadrate, some triangle fashion, Some circular, some oval in translation; Some perpendicular ...
— At the Sign of the Barber's Pole - Studies In Hirsute History • William Andrews
... the oven door and tried the cake by sticking a broom whisp into it. The flour was just a bit sticky and she left the cake ...
— The Bobbsey Twins - Or, Merry Days Indoors and Out • Laura Lee Hope
... as in the sun The weary Hermit took his usual nap, And at his post The faithful Bear his daily work begun, Giving full many a brush and gentle slap, With a light whisp of herbs sweet-scented, And thus the teasing flies prevented, That buzzing host, From fixing on his sleeping patron's visage, Sunk in the deep repose so fit for ...
— Favourite Fables in Prose and Verse • Various
... do still believe in such a Deity, I then do say in return, they do not make use of their intellects. The moment we go into a belief beyond what we feel, see and understand, we might as well believe in will-with-a-whisp as in God. But I would fix morality upon a better basis than belief in a Deity. If it has indeed at present no other basis, it is not morality, it is selfishness, it is timidity; it is the hope of reward, it is the dread ...
— Answer to Dr. Priestley's Letters to a Philosophical Unbeliever • Matthew Turner
... last reviving draught of cool refreshment! Soon shall its waters in my bosom still Life's fitful fever; and my spirit then Adown oblivion's stream shall glide to you, Ye spirits, shrouded in eternal mist. With tranquil pleasure in your deep repose A weary son of earth may lave his soul!— What whisp'ring sounds pervade the dreary grove? What hollow murmurs haunt its twilight gloom?— They gather round to view the stranger guest! Who are yon troop in high communion met, Like an assembl'd family of princes? They mingle ...
— Iphigenia in Tauris • Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
... wine, as foaming whitely In the glass it sparkles lightly, Like a lover smiling brightly, Gently whisp'ring words that bless! See the honest cup so cheery! It refreshes us when weary! Drives away all humors ...
— Zanetto and Cavalleria Rusticana • Giovanni Targioni-Tozzetti, Guido Menasci, and Pietro Mascagni
... like! She wus over ter Bridgeton, and Barney swore he drove her ter every milliner in the place, and says she ter me, pleasant like, that evenin', when returned, in excuse fer havin' nothin' to show, 'Oh, Annie, Annie, it would break yer heart to see the little whisp of flowers they ask five dollars for; to fix me hats a trifle would part me from ...
— The Garden, You, and I • Mabel Osgood Wright
... closed those eyes, whose radiant beams Surpass'd imagination's dreams, Yet whisp'ring still, were but faint ...
— The Snow-Drop • Sarah S. Mower
... billets and groan-ets, Ye'll tear the poor Postie to shivers and rags. Noo Jock sends to Jenny, it costs but ae penny, A screed that has near broke the Dictionar's back, Fu' o' dove-in and dear-in, and thoughts on the shearin'!! Nae need noo o' whisp'rin' ayont a wheat stack. Auld drivers were lazy, their mail-coaches crazy, At ilk public-house they stopt for a gill; But noo at the gallop, cheap mail-bags maun wallop. Hurrah for our Postman, the great Roland Hill. "Then send round ...
— A Hundred Years by Post - A Jubilee Retrospect • J. Wilson Hyde
... score Distracts the town; when all is spent That the base niggard world hath lent Thy purse, or mine; when the loath'd noise Of drawers, 'prentices and boys Hath left us, and the clam'rous bar Items no pints i' th' Moon or Star; When no calm whisp'rers wait the doors, To fright us with forgotten scores; And such aged long bills carry, As might start an antiquary; When the sad tumults of the maze, Arrests, suits, and the dreadful face Of sergeants are not seen, and we No lawyers' ruffs, ...
— Poems of Henry Vaughan, Silurist, Volume II • Henry Vaughan |
