"Brood" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... decent and moderate, if it had armed his hand, I would never, for all that, have raised it against a defenseless old man. If you want a sacrifice, take me; I am ready, but do not mingle my lot with that of this brood. My family, who have always dwelt in the country, and have followed the customs and simple ways of rural life, are disgraced. My mother weeps and is crushed. Judge whether I, who am plunged in this sea of misfortune, can still cherish a love of life. I loved freedom ...
— The German Classics, v. 20 - Masterpieces of German Literature • Various
... untenable. New conditions call for independent thought, and originality of treatment. If the ancestral plans and specifications could not be varied, then every bird would have to build a nest just "such as mother used to make," or have no brood. ...
— The Minds and Manners of Wild Animals • William T. Hornaday
... harbours vertuous thought And is with childe of glorious great intent, Can never rest, until it forth have brought Th' eternall brood of glorie excellent." SPENSER, The ...
— Phantastes - A Faerie Romance for Men and Women • George MacDonald
... the swift Princess lay in icy bonds, beside the deserted wharves, and the veteran pilot went home to his farm, his little house with its brood of children, his shaggy horses, Highland cows, and long-bodied sheep, and became as earnest a farmer as if he had never turned a vanishing furrow on the scarless bosom of the ocean. Always pleasant, anxious to oblige, careful of the safety of his guests, ...
— Adrift in the Ice-Fields • Charles W. Hall
... of the long grass-grown lane of Lois Boynton's watching in days gone by. On sunny mornings there is a merry babel of children's chatter, mingled with gentle maternal warnings, for this is a new brood of young things and the river is calling them as it has called all the others who ever came within the circle of its magic. The fragile harebells hanging their blue heads from the crevices of the rocks; the brilliant ...
— The Story Of Waitstill Baxter • By Kate Douglas Wiggin
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