"Streamer" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... I was doomed so soon to repent; a hundred visions of her start to my eyes; and there is the trade-wind singing in the rigging, and loosening a tress of my darling's hair, till it flies like a tiny golden streamer in the tropic sun. There, it is out! I have called her what she was to be in my heart ever after. Yet at the time I must argue with her—with her! When all my courage should have gone to love-making, I was plucking it up to sail as near as I might to plain ...
— Dead Men Tell No Tales • E. W. Hornung
... wind did blow, the cloak did fly, Like streamer long and gay, Till loop and button failing both, ...
— The Children's Garland from the Best Poets • Various
... where I was, I thanked Heaven that the smoke around me rose in clouds and hid me. As it was, many a bullet, shot at random, whizzed through the cords to which I clung, and once a great booming shot tore away the streamer at the mast-head. But so busy were all down below that no one troubled himself to look for the skulker aloft, who sat there, as it seemed, above the clouds, not even knowing, as the day wore on, whether the Rata still belonged to the King of Spain or ...
— Sir Ludar - A Story of the Days of the Great Queen Bess • Talbot Baines Reed
... many of the men wear streamers of vari-colored ribbons in the buttonholes of their coats. A few of them carefully cultivate a forelock of hair by wrapping it in twine, and on such festive occasions decorate it with a narrow ribbon streamer. Big meetings afford a fine opportunity to the younger people to meet each other dressed in their Sunday clothes, and much rustic courting, which is as enjoyable as any other kind, is ...
— The Autobiography of an Ex-Colored Man • James Weldon Johnson
... The new Fleming butler, a short and somewhat globular Negro with a gingerbread-crust complexion and an air of affable dignity, was helping Pierre Jarrett and Karen Lawrence put a couple of cartons and a tall peach-basket into Pierre's Plymouth. Colin MacBride, a streamer of pipe-smoke floating back over his shoulder, was peering into his luggage-compartment to check the stowage of his own cargo, while his twelve-year-old son, Malcolm, another black Highlander like his father, was helping Philip Cabot carry a big laundry hamper full ...
— Murder in the Gunroom • Henry Beam Piper
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