1 Perhaps there was nothing within him.
2 The men said 'My dear fellow,' and did nothing.
3 We felt meditative, and fit for nothing but placid staring.
4 I know nothing as to the fate of the less valuable animals.
5 We had plates that would do, but nothing to fasten them with.
6 On the whole river there was nothing that looked half so nautical.
7 The bush around said nothing, and would not let us look very far, either.
8 There was an air of plotting about that station, but nothing came of it, of course.
9 He surely wanted nothing from the wilderness but space to breathe in and to push on through.
10 They were no colonists; their administration was merely a squeeze, and nothing more, I suspect.
11 I found nothing else to do but to offer him one of my good Swede's ship's biscuits I had in my pocket.
12 It was very pretty to see how he baffled himself, for in truth my body was full of chills, and my head had nothing in it but that wretched steamboat business.
13 I let him run on, this papier-mache Mephistopheles, and it seemed to me that if I tried I could poke my forefinger through him, and would find nothing inside but a little loose dirt, maybe.
14 And indeed nothing is easier for a man who has, as the phrase goes, "followed the sea" with reverence and affection, than to evoke the great spirit of the past upon the lower reaches of the Thames.
15 She rang under my feet like an empty Huntley & Palmer biscuit-tin kicked along a gutter; she was nothing so solid in make, and rather less pretty in shape, but I had expended enough hard work on her to make me love her.
16 One, with his chin propped on his knees, stared at nothing, in an intolerable and appalling manner: his brother phantom rested its forehead, as if overcome with a great weariness; and all about others were scattered in every pose of contorted collapse, as in some picture of a massacre or a pestilence.
17 In the immutability of their surroundings the foreign shores, the foreign faces, the changing immensity of life, glide past, veiled not by a sense of mystery but by a slightly disdainful ignorance; for there is nothing mysterious to a seaman unless it be the sea itself, which is the mistress of his existence and as inscrutable as Destiny.
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