Sle Quotes

We've searched our database for all the quotes and captions related to Sle. Here they are! All 18 of them:

Consider it warly, reid oftar than anys; Weill at a blenk sle poetry nocht tane is.
Gavin Douglas (The Aeneid, Volume 1: Introduction, Books I - VIII)
She was still doing forty knots, driving in under the guns of the enemy, guns at maximum depression, when "A" magazine blew up, blasted off the entire bows in one shattering detonations. For a second, the lightened fo'c'sle reared high into the air" then it plunged down, deep down, into the shoulder of a rolling sea. She plunged down and kept on going down, driving down to the black floor of the Arctic, driven down by the madly spinning screws. The still thundering engines her own executioners.
Alistair MacLean (HMS Ulysses)
It was the forty-fathom slumber that clears the soul and eye and heart, and sends you to breakfast ravening. They emptied a big tin dish of juicy fragments of fish- the blood-ends the cook had collected overnight. They cleaned up the plates and pans of the elder mess, who were out fishing, sliced pork for the midday meal, swabbed down the foc'sle, filled the lamps, drew coal and water for the cook, an investigated the fore-hold, where the boat's stores were stacked. It was another perfect day - soft, mild and clear; and Harvey breathed to the very bottom of his lungs.
Rudyard Kipling (Captains Courageous)
Many a time in the past, when an active operator on Wall Street, he had done things...which would have caused raised eyebrows on the fo'c'sle of a pirate sloop - and done them without a blush.
P.G. Wodehouse
I have just had a thought about the cut of the Minerva's spanker-boom.' 'How little I understand of that sentence,' she said, admiring his drawing. 'And is there truly something on a ship called a f'c'sle? It seems to have an unwarranted excess of apostrophes. My suspicion is that when we landlubbers are not by, seamen do not use these words at all and talk quite normally.
Jude Morgan (A Little Folly)
TWILIGHT I have dreamed of flight. And I have dreamed of your laces strewn in the bedroom. I have dreamed of some mother walking the length of a wharf and at fifteen nursing the hour. I have dreamed of flight. A “forever” sighed at a fo’c’sle ladder. I have dreamed of a mother, of fresh sprigs of table-greens, and the stars stitched in bridals of the dawn.             The length of a wharf … the length of a drowning throat! Translated by John Knoepfle
Robert Bly (Neruda and Vallejo: Selected Poems)
If I mention my father is blind, the response is rarely one of immediate concern or pity.…. The audience in receipt of this bare fact seems always to be in need of comfort. I cannot provide comfort. He cannot see light. My life with lupus often provokes a similar response in others: the desire to be comforted. By me. The sufferer.
Shaista Tayabali (LUPUS, YOU ODD UNNATURAL THING: a tale of auto-immunity)
I God, a very Gomorry on wheels! You lead the most exciting life I know of, and complain more about it than any two well-off bastards in the running. I am glad to hear you sound like your old self, though I never hearn of no Jonathan with two Davids. Top of this letter is an allusion to that wonderful novel, The SotWeed Factor, in which Ebenezer Cooke, “poet and virgin,” is about to be raped by a buncher sailors (they have him tied across a table in the fo’c’sle; he is saved by a raiding party of pirates, one of whom strides into the scene and says, “I God, this here ship’s a very floatin’ Gomorry!” Have come down with the flu since inditing the above. [...]. The mail yestiddy brought a letter from Sam Beckett! asked to see Sappho and Arky. I sag with fatigue. Blessings. Guy
Guy Davenport
Cap’n don’t like us tellin’ tales,” another man added. “That’s just ‘round his girl, is all,” the storyteller replied. Camille ceased breathing and widened her eyes. They were right about her father banning such rubbish aboard his ships, but she’d never known she was the reason for it. Why did he feel the need to protect her from them? The few parts of stories she had managed to overhear were entertaining but obvious malarkey to scare young sailors ut of their wits. “If he thinks she’s too fine for them, he shouldn’t bring her along,” Lucius said, his sneer reaching through to his tone of voice. “This is her last time, ain’t it?” another sailor asked. Her stomach cramped at the unwelcome reminder. “If it is, I wager it’ll be Kildare’s, too. He won’t stick ‘round no more,” another chuckled. Camille’s ears perked at Oscar’s name, then reddened at the sailor’s implication that Oscar was there only for her. It was absurd. “Good,” Lucius replied. “Who will be our new first mate?” What were they going on about? Oscar was a perfect first mate. Her father had groomed him for it. Oscar couldn’t just…leave. “Well, it won’t be you, Drake. You can’t even make a shroud knot!” The sailors in the fo’c’sle burst out in laughter. Grabbing her chance to leave, Camille took off down the corridor until their laughter faded with the sighs of the ship.
Angie Frazier (Everlasting (Everlasting, #1))
Lyra stood shivering in the fo’c’sle and laughed with delight as her beloved Pantalaimon, sleek and powerful, leaped from the water with half a dozen other swift gray shapes. He had to stay close to the ship, of course, for he could never go far from her; but she sensed his desire to speed as far and as fast as he could, for pure exhilaration. She shared his pleasure, but for her it wasn’t simple pleasure, for there was pain and fear in it too. Suppose he loved being a dolphin more than he loved being with her on land? What would she do then? Her friend the able seaman was nearby, and he paused as he adjusted the canvas cover of the forward hatch to look out at the little girl’s dæmon skimming and leaping with the dolphins. His own dæmon, a seagull, had her head tucked under her wing on the capstan. He knew what Lyra was feeling. “I remember when I first went to sea, my Belisaria hadn’t settled on one form, I was that young, and she loved being a porpoise. I was afraid she’d settle like that. There was one old sailorman on my first vessel who could never go ashore at all, because his dæmon had settled as a dolphin, and he could never leave the water. He was a wonderful sailor, best navigator you ever knew; could have made a fortune at the fishing, but he wasn’t happy at it. He was never quite happy till he died and he could be buried at sea.” “Why do dæmons have to settle?” Lyra said. “I want Pantalaimon to be able to change forever. So does he.” “Ah, they always have settled, and they always will. That’s part of growing up. There’ll come a time when you’ll be tired of his changing about, and you’ll want a settled kind of form for him.” “I never will!” “Oh, you will. You’ll want to grow up like all the other girls. Anyway, there’s compensations for a settled form.” “What are they?” “Knowing what kind of person you are. Take old Belisaria. She’s a seagull, and that means I’m a kind of seagull too. I’m not grand and splendid nor beautiful, but I’m a tough old thing and I can survive anywhere and always find a bit of food and company. That’s worth knowing, that is. And when your dæmon settles, you’ll know the sort of person you are.” “But suppose your dæmon settles in a shape you don’t like?” “Well, then, you’re discontented, en’t you? There’s plenty of folk as’d like to have a lion as a dæmon and they end up with a poodle. And till they learn to be satisfied with what they are, they’re going to be fretful about it. Waste of feeling, that is.” But it didn’t seem to Lyra that she would ever grow up.
Philip Pullman (The Golden Compass (His Dark Materials, #1))
asking your doctor what antibodies were positive during the workup of your lupus and look them up under the “Immunological Tests” section at the end of this chapter. This could give you some additional clues as to what kinds of problems you may or may not be at increased risk for with your SLE.
Donald E. Thomas (The Lupus Encyclopedia: A Comprehensive Guide for Patients and Families (A Johns Hopkins Press Health Book))
Rad bi živel. Rad bi čutil veličastnost vsega življenja in grozo vse smrti. Rad bi zapel pošastno balado in vanjo vpletal otroško šaljivko. Rad bi globoko zadihal z vsemi zdravimi pljuči tega sveta, čutil polne prsi, nenačeto drobovje, vroče razbijanje vratnih žil. Rad bi živel življenje, ki človeka požira. Rad bi služil življenju za en sam divji trenutek. Rad bi zagospodoval nad življenjem in mu bil suženj (kakor je to v vseh velikih ljubeznih). Plameneti hočem, goreti, izžarevati, trepetati, mraziti se od tesnobe, drgetati od nemira in obenem zgorevati od sle po v s e m življenju. Zajahati življenje kakor žrebca - ubijalca, jahati, dvigati se in padati, uničevati se do bolestnosti, goreti, zgorevati v plamenu.
Vitomil Zupan (Potovanje na konec pomladi : blisk v štirih barvah)
He heard the bell from the fo’c’sle – three double strokes and a single – seven bells in the last dog watch.
Chris Durbin (Nor'west by North (Carlisle & Holbrooke Naval Adventures #10))
He was blind to the things he was not meant to see – the piece of ham that an officious fo’c’sle cat dragged from behind a bucket, the girls the master’s mates had hidden in the sail-room and who would keep peeping out from behind mounds of canvas. He took no notice of the goat abaft the manger, that fixed him with an insulting devilish split-pupilled eye and defecated with intent; nor of the dubious object, not unlike a pudding, that someone in a last-minute panic had wedged beneath the gammoning of the bow-sprit.
Patrick O'Brian (Master and Commander (Aubrey/Maturin, #1))
Her foremast was riddled and her foresail collapsed in tatters across the fo’c’sle.
Nicholas Best (Trafalgar)
The first shot came from the carronade on the Victory’s port fo’c’sle.
Nicholas Best (Trafalgar)
Gentlemen, Admiral Lord Nelson wrote, of the officers aft on the quarterdeck and the seamen of the fo’c’sle: ‘Aft the most honour—forward the better man!’” The
Julian Stockwin (Caribbee (Thomas Kydd #14))
stations on board, the fo’c’sle had been allotted to
Nicholas Monsarrat (The Cruel Sea)