"Spired" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... degeneracy in things religious: you must often have seen drawings of Probus at the Watercolour Exhibition, as it is a regular artists' lion. At about half-past six we got into Truro, a clean wide flourishing town with London shops, a commemorative column, a fine spired church, bridges over narrow streams, and, like most other West of England towns, well payed and gas-lighted. From this, I had intended to go to Falmouth, but a diligent brain-sucking of coach comrades ...
— My Life as an Author • Martin Farquhar Tupper
... gone this many a year To some rich haven where the poets throng And Ruler of Ten Cities wrought in song And spired with rhythmic music, high and clear, Still finds his England something close and dear, Rejoicing when her justice baffles wrong And willing her to wrestle and be strong. I think he bides by England and ...
— Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 153, Sept. 12, 1917 • Various
... the memories from his mind, and the futile restlessness they brought, and went on past a golden-spired church to a small cottage that was almost hidden in a garden of flowers and giant ...
— The Helpful Hand of God • Tom Godwin
... screamed, her voice became thin, like a crying of wind;—then she melted into a bright white mist that spired to the roof-beams, and shuddered away through the smoke-hold... ...
— Kwaidan: Stories and Studies of Strange Things • Lafcadio Hearn
... stands among trees, with an air of large solidity a little graver than the small, shingle-spired churches of the other two villages, are tablets to the memory of a number of Enticknaps, described sturdily as "yeomen," of Upper Dunce, Pockford, and Gorbage Green, which appears on the maps in the plainer form of Garbage Green. Enticknap is a good Surrey name to-day, and there were Enticknaps ...
— Highways and Byways in Surrey • Eric Parker
... in an arm-chair tilted back, and across the way Mr. Hobbs, who keeps the one general store, would as likely be napping on a counter, his head pillowed upon a pile of calico. A little further up the street and near the one tall-spired white church Mrs. Mears, the village gossip, may be sitting on the veranda of a small house almost hid by luxuriantly growing Norway spruce, and idly rocking while she chats with the widow Sloper, who lives there, and whose mission in life ...
— Uncle Terry - A Story of the Maine Coast • Charles Clark Munn |
