Oh these Victorians crack me up!!!
Apr. 9th, 2005 06:55 amSome excerpts from the novel I am currently reading for class.
"'Why, Kate, my dear Kate! what, could you love any man but me? Could you be so cruel?--could you? There, let me get off my horse, and lie down on this stubble, and you ride over me, and trample me to death. I would rather have you trample on my ribs, than on my heart with loving any one but me.'"
"The bullet had passed through Neville's hat, and had actually cut a lane through his magnificent hair." Shades of Angel, anyone? *g*
"But her face was ashy, and her lips the color of lead; and she was so like death, they could not help being terribly alarmed; and now, for the first time, the duellists felt culprits; and, as for fighting, every idea of such a thing went out of their heads; the rivals now were but rival nurses; and never did a lot of women make more fuss over a child, than all these bloodthirsty men did over this Amazon manquée. They produced their legendary lore; one's grandmother had told him burnt feathers were the thing; another, from an equally venerable source, had gathered that those pink palms must be profanely slapped by the horny hand of a man; for at no less a price could resuscitation be obtained." Yes, yes that's it. Slap her with your horny hands lads. That'll bring her round for sure. LOL
"'Why, Kate, my dear Kate! what, could you love any man but me? Could you be so cruel?--could you? There, let me get off my horse, and lie down on this stubble, and you ride over me, and trample me to death. I would rather have you trample on my ribs, than on my heart with loving any one but me.'"
"The bullet had passed through Neville's hat, and had actually cut a lane through his magnificent hair." Shades of Angel, anyone? *g*
"But her face was ashy, and her lips the color of lead; and she was so like death, they could not help being terribly alarmed; and now, for the first time, the duellists felt culprits; and, as for fighting, every idea of such a thing went out of their heads; the rivals now were but rival nurses; and never did a lot of women make more fuss over a child, than all these bloodthirsty men did over this Amazon manquée. They produced their legendary lore; one's grandmother had told him burnt feathers were the thing; another, from an equally venerable source, had gathered that those pink palms must be profanely slapped by the horny hand of a man; for at no less a price could resuscitation be obtained." Yes, yes that's it. Slap her with your horny hands lads. That'll bring her round for sure. LOL