1 Then he began to talk of school and of books.
2 I ran to the hall, seized my books and followed her.
3 He remembered the books of poetry upon his shelves at home.
4 A few days later he received a parcel containing his books and music.
5 If he could give expression to it in a book of poems perhaps men would listen.
6 He began to invent sentences and phrases from the notice which his book would get.
7 He lent her books, provided her with ideas, shared his intellectual life with her.
8 If he could only write a book and get it published, that might open the way for him.
9 But shyness had always held him back; and so the books had remained on their shelves.
10 The books on the white wooden shelves were arranged from below upwards according to bulk.
11 Then he drew off his glove, produced a small book from his waist, licked the lead of his pencil and made ready to indite.
12 I hid my books in the long grass near the ashpit at the end of the garden where nobody ever came and hurried along the canal bank.
13 She held an open book on her knees and was pointing out something in it to Constantine who, dressed in a man-o-war suit, lay at her feet.
14 His wife put him to bed while Mr. Power sat downstairs in the kitchen asking the children where they went to school and what book they were in.
15 He had never been violent since the boys had grown up, and she knew that he would walk to the end of Thomas Street and back again to book even a small order.
16 Among these I found a few paper-covered books, the pages of which were curled and damp: The Abbot, by Walter Scott, The Devout Communicant and The Memoirs of Vidocq.
17 If he might use the metaphor, he said, he was their spiritual accountant; and he wished each and every one of his hearers to open his books, the books of his spiritual life, and see if they tallied accurately with conscience.
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