The gallows stood in a small yard, separate from the main grounds of the prison and overgrown with tall prickly weeds. –George Orwell, Burmese Days
The doctor waited patiently, his stethoscope hanging around his neck, symbolizing his authoritative position.
He went through the narrow alley of Temple Bar quickly, muttering to himself that they could all go to hell because he was going to have a good night of it. –James Joyce, “Counter Parts”
He stared at his patient, contemptuously, wondering if he wanted to waste his time on a man that would not make it.
To regain the stage in its own character, not as a mere emulation of prose, poetry must find its own poetic way to the mastery the stage demands—the mastery of action. –Archibald MacLeish, “The Poet as Playwright”
To regain his professionalism, not only for the sake of his patient, he straightened his tie and began to recite the diagnosis.
The gallows stood in a small yard, separate from the main grounds and overgrown with tall prickly weeds. –George Orwell, Burmese Days
In a small yard stood the gallows, overgrown with tall prickly weeds and separate from the main grounds.
Separate from the main grounds stood the gallows in small yard, overgrown with tall prickly weeds.
Overgrown with tall prickly weeds, stood the gallows in a small yard; separate from the main grounds.
Posted by oysterboy on December 6, 2008
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