"Sloping" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... whence came the sound of voices and laughter with snatches of song, all quickly lost again in the rolling thunder of those tireless galloping hoofs; past lonely cottages where dim lights burned, over hill, over dale, by rolling meadow and sloping down, past darkling woods whence breathed an air cool and damp and sweet, on up the long ascent of Poll Hill and down into the valley again. Thus, in a while, Barnabas saw more lights before him that, clustering together, seemed to hang suspended in mid-air, ...
— The Amateur Gentleman • Jeffery Farnol et al
... huge and antique mound, Proof against all th' artillery of the quiver, Ere those abominable guns were found, To send cold lead through gallant warrior's liver It stands upon a gently rising ground, Sloping down gradually to the river, Resembling (to compare great things with smaller) A well-scooped, moldy ...
— The Humourous Poetry of the English Language • James Parton
... died from the river like the scarlet from cooling iron, and it lay dark and silent, dimly reflecting a myriad of stars. The sloping bank, the maize fields, tobacco patch and mulberry grove, the plateau upon which were ranged the wigwams of the Indians, the dark and endless forest—all the wide, sombre earth—had their stars also—myriads on myriads of fireflies, ...
— Prisoners of Hope - A Tale of Colonial Virginia • Mary Johnston
... me by the throat; without a word I led him to the one window looking inward upon sloping slates and level leads. Often as a boy I had clambered over them, for the fearful fun of risking life and limb, or the fascination of peering through the great square skylight, down the well of the ...
— A Thief in the Night • E. W. Hornung
... deserved of me Far, far beyond whatever I can pay. Oft have I proved the labors of thy love, And the warm efforts of the gentle heart Anxious to please. O! when my friend and I In some thick wood have wander'd heedless on, Hid from the vulgar eye, and sat us down Upon the sloping cowslip-covered bank, Where the pure limpid stream has slid along, In grateful errors through the under-wood, Sweet murmurings, methought the shrill-tongued thrush Mended his song of love; the sooty blackbird Mellow'd ...
— For Auld Lang Syne • Ray Woodward
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