"Deformed" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... court, where he was highly caressed by the most shining characters of the times, particularly by the earl of Dorset, Edward Hyde, and Lord Treasurer Weston: during these gay moments, spent in the court amusements, an unlucky accident happened to our author, which not a little deformed his face, which, from nature, was very handsome. Wood has affirmed, that this accident arose from libidinous dalliance with a handsome black girl in Axe-yard, Westminster. The plain fact is this, Davenant was of an amorous complexion, and ...
— The Lives of the Poets of Great Britain and Ireland (1753) - Volume II • Theophilus Cibber
... have the capacities of full grown men, but have never had the opportunities. Their superstitions lead them into singular forms of reasonings. With them the deformed are objects of curiosity, and generally, of reverence. Those mentally deficient are regarded as ...
— The Wonder Island Boys: Treasures of the Island • Roger Thompson Finlay
... Eystein's mother was called Bjadok, and she followed him to Norway. Magnus was the name of King Harald Gille's fourth son, who was fostered by Kyrpingaorm. He also was chosen king, and got a fourth part of the country; but Magnus was deformed in his feet, lived but a short time, and died in his bed. Einar Skulason speaks ...
— Heimskringla - The Chronicle of the Kings of Norway • Snorri Sturluson
... women no such thing exists. He called their affection by other names, and said that for true love to be present the influence of sex must be absent. This he proved by declaring that this marvellous passion of love about which people talk and write is never heard of where its object is old or deformed, or even very ugly, although such accidents of chance and time are no bar to the true love of—let us say—the child and the parent, or ...
— Stella Fregelius • H. Rider Haggard
... yes, I love him, though he's changed From that he was. Some gloomy cloud involves That face one day so fair, and 'neath the feet, Now grown deformed, the flowers wither away. I know not if I sleep or if I wake, If what I see be a vision or a dream. But all is dreadful, and I cannot tell The falsehood from the truth; for if I reason, I fear to sin. I fly the happy bed Where I became a mother, but return In midnight's ...
— Modern Italian Poets • W. D. Howells
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