1 You were saying, "Our aim in life."
2 Three emotions made the ply of human life.
3 Or perhaps not a person's life; a county's.
4 People like ourselves, beginning life again.
5 From that embrace another life might be born.
6 Some were old; some were in the prime of life.
7 At twenty-four the best days of life are over.
8 "Albert having the time of his life," Bartholomew muttered.
9 From the distaff of life's tangled skein, unloose her hands.
10 Or not a life at all, but science--Eddington, Darwin, or Jeans.
11 Condemned in life's infernal mine, condemned in solitude to pine.
12 In real life they had never met, the long lady and the man holding his horse by the rein.
13 It was his fault, since she had persisted in stretching his thread of life so fine, so far.
14 The drone of the trees was in their ears; the chirp of birds; other incidents of garden life, inaudible, invisible to her in the bedroom, absorbed them.
15 The tree became a rhapsody, a quivering cacophony, a whizz and vibrant rapture, branches, leaves, birds syllabling discordantly life, life, life, without measure, without stop devouring the tree.
16 In the summer there were always butterflies; fritillaries darting through; Red Admirals feasting and floating; cabbage whites, unambitiously fluttering round a bush, like muslin milkmaids, content to spend a life there.