1 a fire in the Petersburg quarter.
2 Dounia shot again: it missed fire.
3 another fire in the Petersburg quarter.
4 and another fire in the Petersburg quarter.
5 "No, I am not reading about the fires," he went on, winking at Zametov.
6 Her lower lip was white and quivering and her big black eyes flashed like fire.
7 Their eyes met, and the fire in Raskolnikov's seemed ready to reduce him to ashes.
Crime and Punishment By Fyodor DostoevskyContextHighlight In PART 5: CHAPTER III 8 An accident on a staircase, spontaneous combustion of a shopkeeper from alcohol, a fire in Peski.
9 There was a gleam of fire in his lustreless eyes; he seemed to be glad to think that he was still proud.
Crime and Punishment By Fyodor DostoevskyContextHighlight In PART 6: CHAPTER VII 10 It came over him like a fit; it was like a single spark kindled in his soul and spreading fire through him.
Crime and Punishment By Fyodor DostoevskyContextHighlight In PART 6: CHAPTER VIII 11 The fire glowing in her eyes at the moment she raised the revolver seemed to kindle him and there was a pang of anguish in his heart.
12 Raskolnikov's landlady bore witness, too, that when they had lived in another house at Five Corners, Raskolnikov had rescued two little children from a house on fire and was burnt in doing so.
Crime and Punishment By Fyodor DostoevskyContextHighlight In PART 6: CHAPTER VIII 13 To give her pleasure Razumihin told her how Raskolnikov had looked after the poor student and his decrepit father and how a year ago he had been burnt and injured in rescuing two little children from a fire.
Crime and Punishment By Fyodor DostoevskyContextHighlight In PART 6: CHAPTER VIII 14 In this vice at least there is something permanent, founded indeed upon nature and not dependent on fantasy, something present in the blood like an ever-burning ember, for ever setting one on fire and, maybe, not to be quickly extinguished, even with years.
Crime and Punishment By Fyodor DostoevskyContextHighlight In PART 6: CHAPTER III 15 He gazed at that pale, thin, irregular, angular little face, those soft blue eyes, which could flash with such fire, such stern energy, that little body still shaking with indignation and anger--and it all seemed to him more and more strange, almost impossible.
16 Bending over the water, he gazed mechanically at the last pink flush of the sunset, at the row of houses growing dark in the gathering twilight, at one distant attic window on the left bank, flashing as though on fire in the last rays of the setting sun, at the darkening water of the canal, and the water seemed to catch his attention.