"Weathered" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... death, confusion, hell, and furies! Where am I?—O, Jocasta, let me hold thee, Thus to my bosom! ages let me grasp thee! All that the hardest-tempered weathered flesh, With fiercest human spirit inspired, can dare, Or do, I dare; but, oh you powers, this was, By infinite degrees, too much for man. Methinks my deafened ears Are burst; my eyes, as if they had been knocked By ...
— The Works of John Dryden, Vol. 6 (of 18) - Limberham; Oedipus; Troilus and Cressida; The Spanish Friar • John Dryden
... Bobby, when hunting with Abel upon the barrens, had weathered some terrific storms. These were experiences which he himself had never encountered, for he and Skipper Ed during their winter months on the trapping trails clung more closely to the forests, where they were protected from sweeping gales and could always find firewood ...
— Bobby of the Labrador • Dillon Wallace
... Stronger than ever was Anita Richmond in Fairchild's thoughts now, and it was with avidity that he learned every scrap of news regarding her, as brought to him by Mother Howard. Hungrily he listened for the details of how she had weathered the shock of her father's death; anxiously he inquired for her return in the days following the information—via Mother Howard—that she had gone on a short trip to Denver to look after matters pertaining to her father's estate. Dully he heard that she had come back, and that Maurice Rodaine had ...
— The Cross-Cut • Courtney Ryley Cooper
... matter of course, that the Western Autocracy will fill up, unbroken, the outline traced for it by Nature and history. But England, forced as her civilization must be considered ever since the Conquest, has a reasonable chance for another vigorous century, and the Union, the present storm once weathered, does not ask a longer time than this to become, according to the prediction of the London "Times," the master-power of ...
— The Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 13, No. 78, April, 1864 • Various
... blow, ye tempests, blow, And my spirit shall not quail: I have fought with many a foe, I have weathered many a gale; And in this hour of death, Ere I yield my fleeting breath— Ere the fire now burning slow Shall come rushing from below, And this worn and wasted frame Be devoted to the flame— I will raise my voice in triumph, Singing free;— To the great All-Father's home I am driving ...
— The Ontario Readers: Fourth Book • Various
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