"Plucked" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... the oaf's conceit, and standing closely over him, we got a path made round the corner of the dump to our door, so that we could come and go with decent ease; and he even enjoyed the work, for in that there were boulders to be plucked up bodily, bushes to be uprooted, and other occasions for athletic display: but cutting wood was a different matter. Anybody could cut wood; and, besides, my wife was tired of supervising him, and had other things to attend to. And in short, days went by, and Irvine came ...
— The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition - Vol. 2 (of 25) • Robert Louis Stevenson
... the conviction, that such exercises as yours, are a conflict that must ultimately prove successful. You do not cloak your sins. You confess and deplore them. I believe that you will still be as 'a brand plucked from the burning,' and that you (with all your wanderings) will be restored, and raised up, as a chosen instrument, to spread a Saviour's name. Many a 'chief of sinners,' has been brought, since the days of 'Saul of Tarsus,' to sit as a little child, at the Redeemer's feet. To ...
— Reminiscences of Samuel Taylor Coleridge and Robert Southey • Joseph Cottle
... us, and shake off a fruit into the water. Gay flowers, too, were not wanting, of the orchid tribe: some with white and spotted and purple blossoms; the most magnificent of a brilliant purple colour, called by the natives Saint Ann's flower, four inches across. We plucked some, which emitted a most delightful odour. At last we came out once more into the bright sunshine, at a small lake, the surface of which was adorned in many parts with numberless beautiful water-plants—graceful lilies, yellow bladder-worts, and numbers of ...
— On the Banks of the Amazon • W.H.G. Kingston
... Who plucked in English meadows flowers fair As any that in unforgotten stave Vied with the orient gold of Venus' hair Or fringed the murmur of the ...
— Reviews • Oscar Wilde
... hundred and forty-four,—my mother's,—and I looked about and sought her grave. The grass seemed crispy and dry. I sat down by this grave. I leaned over it, and looked into the tangled net-work of dead fibres held fast by some link of the past to living roots underneath. I plucked some of them, and in idlest of fancies looked closely to see if deeds or thoughts of a summer gone had been left upon them. "No! I've had enough of fancies for one day; I'll have no more to-night," I thought; and I wished ...
— Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 10, No. 61, November, 1862 • Various
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