1 I'd feel safer, knowing you were under my own roof.
2 'You must feel proud of yourself, Lena,' I said heartily.
3 The crazy boy went with them, because he did not feel the cold.
4 She would toss her head and ask me to feel the muscles swell in her brown arm.
5 As I turned him over, I began to feel proud of him, to have a kind of respect for his age and size.
6 His face had a look of weariness and pleasure, like that of sick people when they feel relief from pain.
7 Perhaps we feel like that when we die and become a part of something entire, whether it is sun and air, or goodness and knowledge.
8 When he saw me examining it, he turned to me with his far-away look that always made me feel as if I were down at the bottom of a well.
9 I turned in at the gate it was with a feeling of pleasure that I opened and shut that gate in those days; I liked the feel of it under my hand.
My Antonia By Willa CatherContextHighlight In BOOK 4. The Pioneer Woman's Story: II 10 When Mrs. Harling made garden that spring, we could feel the stir of her undertaking through the willow hedge that separated our place from hers.
11 Mary was not far behind: she came right up to the door and made us feel how sharp her blade was, showing us very graphically just what she meant to do to Lena.
12 Trees were so rare in that country, and they had to make such a hard fight to grow, that we used to feel anxious about them, and visit them as if they were persons.
13 He handled the tools as if he liked the feel of them; and when he planed, his hands went back and forth over the boards in an eager, beneficent way as if he were blessing them.
14 Her feet seemed to drag as she moved about the house, and I got up from the table where I was studying and went to her, asking if she didn't feel well, and if I couldn't help her with her work.
15 Then he began to feel it all over, ran his finger-tips along the slippery sides, embraced the carved legs, tried to get some conception of its shape and size, of the space it occupied in primeval night.
16 If I rode over to see her where she was ploughing, she stopped at the end of a row to chat for a moment, then gripped her plough-handles, clucked to her team, and waded on down the furrow, making me feel that she was now grown up and had no time for me.
17 Grandmother always talked, dear woman: to herself or to the Lord, if there was no one else to listen; but grandfather was naturally taciturn, and Jake and Otto were often so tired after supper that I used to feel as if I were surrounded by a wall of silence.
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