1 Give me some water, my lips are dry; and I shall try to tell you.
2 It was better to die like a man; to die like a sailor in blue water no man can object.
3 It takes a lot of water, and running strong, to sweep the outside edge of a river clear.
4 It is said, too, that he can only pass running water at the slack or the flood of the tide.
5 And so the circle goes on ever widening, like as the ripples from a stone thrown in the water.
6 Fortunately, the kitchen and boiler fires were still alive, and there was no lack of hot water.
7 So, sobbing and crying, they went about their way, half clad as they were, and prepared fire and water.
8 When I managed to restore her she was as weak as water, and cried silently between long, painful struggles for breath.
9 Here and there seemed mighty rifts in the mountains, through which, as the sun began to sink, we saw now and again the white gleam of falling water.
10 It is nice at high water; but when the tide is out it shoals away to nothing, and there is merely the stream of the Esk, running between banks of sand, with rocks here and there.
11 It almost seems as though the captain had been seized with some kind of mania before he had got well into blue water, and that this had developed persistently throughout the voyage.
12 There was a dog howling all night under my window, which may have had something to do with it; or it may have been the paprika, for I had to drink up all the water in my carafe, and was still thirsty.
13 There are many trees on it, which make it in places gloomy, and there is a deep, dark-looking pond or small lake, evidently fed by some springs, as the water is clear and flows away in a fair-sized stream.
14 Once or twice its service was most effective, as when a fishing-boat, with gunwale under water, rushed into the harbour, able, by the guidance of the sheltering light, to avoid the danger of dashing against the piers.
15 However, when we got to the pathway outside the churchyard, where there was a puddle of water, remaining from the storm, I daubed my feet with mud, using each foot in turn on the other, so that as we went home, no one, in case we should meet any one, should notice my bare feet.
16 I have a dim half-remembrance of long, anxious times of waiting and fearing; darkness in which there was not even the pain of hope to make present distress more poignant: and then long spells of oblivion, and the rising back to life as a diver coming up through a great press of water.
17 It was a shock to me to turn from the wonderful smoky beauty of a sunset over London, with its lurid lights and inky shadows and all the marvellous tints that come on foul clouds even as on foul water, and to realise all the grim sternness of my own cold stone building, with its wealth of breathing misery, and my own desolate heart to endure it all.
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