Sir Walter, being strangely surprised and put out of his countenance at so great a table, gives his son a damned blow over the face.Hisson, asrude as he was, would not strike his father, but strikes over the face the gentleman that sat next to him and said 'Box about: 'twill come to my father anon.'
Liberty's in every blow! Let us do or die!
Hereditary bondsmen! know ye not Who would be free themselves must strike the blow?
But as in wailing there's nought availing, And Death unfailing will strike the blow, Then for that reason, and for a season, Let us be merry before we go.
And, dying, bless the hand that gave the blow.
The first blow is half the battle.
Every lunch time I went to see how my inheritance was proceeding. Sometimes the deaths column brought good news. Sometimes the births column brought bad. The advent of twin sons to the Duke was a terrible blow. Fortunatelyanepidemic ofdiphtheria restored thestatus quo almost immediately.
She taught me what her uncle once taught her: How easily the biggest coal block split If you got the grain and hammer angled right. The sound of that relaxed alluring blow, Its co-opted and obliterated echo, Taught me to hit, taught me to loosen, Taught me between the hammer and the block To face the music. Teach me now to listen, To strike it rich behind the linear black.
Never lay yourselfopentowhat iscalled conviction: you might as well open your waist-coat to receive a knock- down blow.
If you strike a child take care that you strike it in anger, evenattheriskof maiming itfor life. A blow incold blood neither can nor should be forgiven.
Beware of the man who does not return your blow: he neither forgives you nor allows you to forgive yourself.
I'll say, a strangemanisa marvel, with hismighty talk; but what's a squabble in your back-yard, and the blow of a loy, have taught me that there's a great gap between a gallous story and a dirty deed. 834
Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea! Over the rolling waters go, Come from the dying moon, and blow, Blow him again to me; While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps. Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, Father will come to thee soon; Rest, rest, on mother's breast, Father will come to thee soon; Father will come to his babe in the nest, Silver sails all out of the west Under the silver moon: Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.
You just wait. I'll sin until I blow up!
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