"Dry rot" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... I have encountered it, has not failed to bring back the scene in which I smelt it first. There is an odour less easy to define, but just as easy to recognise, in the air of the morning street; in the reek of horse and harness going up Snow Hill; in a mingling of wet rot and dry rot in the station; in the acrid, faintly-tinctured coffee smell at Oxford; in the scent of a London fog, or the fragrance of a London egg—any one of which will infallibly take me back to the scene and the time at ...
— Recollections • David Christie Murray
... is only too much reason for the change, the course of the war has given ample proof, and therein lies the hope of Britain's future. The war will reveal to the British both their strength and weakness, and if the war does not destroy the dry rot in the land, then it is merely the precursor ...
— What Germany Thinks - The War as Germans see it • Thomas F. A. Smith
... His life was in many ways the reverse of normal, but he insisted in writing about it quite naturally, "as if there were nothing in it." It is perfectly true, then; Borrow is dry. What needs to be appreciated is that his dryness is not that of dry rot, but the dryness of high elevation, of a somewhat solitary and craggy humour—the dryness of "Robinson Crusoe," of "Gil Blas," of "Hadji Baba," and, we might add, of "Don Quixote." There is an absence of verdure. ...
— George Borrow - Times Literary Supplement, 10th July 1903 • Thomas Seccombe
... will be. The real root of the trouble is that we women are changing, developing, while you men are not: you are the same. We, as a sex, are growing up, at last; your sex is standing still. The ideas our grandmothers held, the lives they led, would kill us of dry rot. But you men are just where your grandfathers were in relation to your homes and your beliefs as to the duty of your wives. Of course, your old-time wife looked up to her over-lord with reverence; she hung ...
— Making People Happy • Thompson Buchanan
... unrest and confused cross-currents of desire. A mist seemed to blurr all life. The hemlocks no longer chanted riotous gladness. There was a dirge to-night of futility, monotonous age-old eons of useless effort, the useless fall of the forest giant to the dry rot of slug and insect. It was as if Wayland's spirit stood back and listened to the conflicting contentions of two other men, the one who wanted to breast the stream and the one who wanted to go with the current; one full of blind, red-blood courage, the other full of cold white-corpuscled ...
— The Freebooters of the Wilderness • Agnes C. Laut
... profiteers and premiers, pedagogues and pandemoniacs, of all, in fact, who could not see God in a dewdrop, hear Him in distant goat-bells, and scent Him in a pepper-tree, had always appeared to me akin to dry rot. And yet every day one saw more distinctly that they were the pea in the thimblerig of life, the hub of a universe which, to the approbation of the majority they represented, they were fast making uninhabitable. It did not even seem of any use to help one's neighbors; all efforts ...
— The Best British Short Stories of 1922 • Edward J. O'Brien and John Cournos, editors |
