Your name?" George asked him directly. He had probably seen the man a dozen times before yet did not know anything about him. King Davit would have no doubt have known half the man's history already. "Henry." George took Henry's hand firmly in his own and looked into his eyes. This had to be done delicately, to make sure this Henry did not think him a fool. He tried to think of how his father would do it. "Thank you, Henry, for your concern. It is a comfort to know I am so well guarded. I will make sure to praise you when next I speak to the lord general. But for now I think there is no need to worry.
Mette Ivie Harrison
Charlotte, darling, Henry said to his wife, who was staring at im in gape-mouthed horror. Jassamine, beside her, was wided eyed. Sorry im late. You know, i think i might nearly have the sensor working- Will interrupted. Henry, he said, your on fire. You do know that, don't you? Oh, yes, Henry said eagerly. The flames were now nearly to his shoulder. I've been working like a man possessed all day. Charlotte, did you hear what i said about the sensor? Charlotte dropped her hand from her mouth. Henry! She shrieked. Your arm! Henry glanced down at his arm, and his mouth dropped open. Bloody hell!
I've gotten my Phosphor to work at last.' Henry proudly brandished the object. 'It functions on the principle of witchlight but is five times more powerful. Merely press a button, and you will see a blaze of light the like of which you have never imagined.' There was a silence. 'So, ' said Will finally, 'it's a very, very bright witchlight, then?' 'Exactly, ' Henry said. 'Is that useful, precisely?' Jem inquired. 'After all, witchlight is just for illumination. It's not as if it's dangerous... ' 'Wait till you see it!' Henry replied. He held up the object. 'Watch.' Will moved to object, but it was too late; Henry had already pressed the button. There was a blinding flare of light and a whooshing sound, and the room was plunged into blackness. Tessa gave a yelp of surprise, and Jem laughed softly. 'Am I blind?' Will's voice floated out of the darkness, tinged with annoyance. 'I'm not going to be at all pleased if you've blinded me, Henry.' 'No.' Henry sounded worried. 'No, the Phosphor seems to- Well, it seems to have turned all the lights in the room off.' 'It's not supposed to do that?' Jem sounded mild, as always. 'Er, ' said Henry, 'no.
HENRY BOY THEY BROKE YOUR TOYS THIS MORNING, HENRY RODE YOUR BOARD RIGHT INTO DUST SURROUNDED YOU WITH STRANGERS WHO YOU COULD NOT TRUST AND THEN THEY HAD THE GALL TO WRITE YOUR NAME UP ON THE GIRLS' ROOM WALL AND SEND YOU OUT TO MARIA WHO SPOKE OF BABIES AND ALL AND WANTED TO SHOOT YOUR JOY IT'S A HARD WORLD WHEN YOU'RE THE NEW KID IN TOWN AIN'T IT, HENRY BOY
Henry, ' at last said one, again dipping the spoon into the flaming spirit, 'hast thou read Hoffman?' 'I should think so, ' said Henry. 'What think you of him?' 'Why, that he writes admirably; and, moreover, what is more admirable - in such a manner that you see at once he almost believes that which he relates. As for me, I know very well that when I read him of a dark night, I am obliged to creep to bed without shutting my book, and without daring to look behind me.' 'Indeed; then you love the terrible and fantastic?' 'I do, ' said Henry. ("The Dead Man's Story
James Hain Friswell
Once Henry had heard a crying noise at sea, and had seen a mermaid floating on the ocean's surface. The mermaid had been injured by a shark. Henry had pulled the mermaid out of the water with a rope, and she had died in his arms..."what language did the mermaid speak?" Alma wanted to know, imagining that it like almost have to be Greek. "English!" Henry said. "By God, plum, why would I rescue a deuced foreign mermaid?
A young nurse, someone new whom he didn't recognise, came up to Henry and patted him on the arm. "Are you a friend or a family member?" She whispered the question in his ear, trying not to disturb Sheldon. The question hung there like a beautiful chord, ringing in the air. Henry was Chinese, Sheldon obviously wasn't. They looked nothing alike. Nothing at all. "I'm distant family, " Henry said.
A young nurse, someone new whom he didn't recognise, came up to Henry and patted him on the arm. "Are you a friend or a family member?" She whispered the question in his ear, trying not to disturb Sheldon. The question hung there like a beautiful chord, ringing in the air. Henry was Chinese, Sheldon obviously wasn't. They looked nothing alike. Nothing at all. "I'm distant family," Henry said.
Henry Kissinger How I'm missing yer You're the Doctor of my dreams With your crinkly hair and your glassy stare And your Machiavellian schemes I know they say that you are very vain And short and fat and pushy But at least you're not insane Henry Kissinger How I'm missing yer And wishing you were here Henry Kissinger How I'm missing yer You're so chubby and so neat With your funny clothes and your squishy nose You're like a German parakeet All right so people say that you don't care But you've got nicer legs than Hitler And bigger tits than Cher Henry Kissinger How I'm missing yer And wishing you were here
While reading writers of great formulatory power "" Henry James, Santayana, Proust "" I find I can scarcely get through a page without having to stop to record some lapidary sentence. Reading Henry James, for example, I have muttered to myself, "C'mon, Henry, turn down the brilliance a notch, so I can get some reading done." I may be one of a very small number of people who have developed writer's cramp while reading.
English history turned on Henry VIII and his desires, his whims almost. And it was down to Cromwell to make those desires happen. He was the guy that fixed it. He was also the guy that eased Henry's conscience. Because Henry VIII had an enormous, tender conscience and great theological knowledge.
In a manner akin to the influence of Tiger Woods on the other side of the Atlantic, Thierry Henry has helped kick down a few of the remaining bigoted stereotypes. Through his undisputable class and dignity, Henry has made a deep-seated difference to race relations in this country. Racism will flounder whenever white children grow up with a black man as their hero. That so few comment on Henry's colour is a silent tribute to his impact.
Henry's face went red in anger as he blustered at her audacity. It wasn't often anyone got the better of him, and Sin knew no woman had ever flummoxed him before. Not even Eleanor. "You are willing to declare war for him ?" Henry asked indignantly. She didn't hesitate with her response. "I am. Are you?" Sin closed his eyes as he heard the most precious words of his life. She who believed in nothing but peace was willing to fight for him. He could die happily knowing that. Still, he couldn't let her do this. Henry would not rest until he buried her and her clan. A king's reputation was all he had, and if Henry lost face... "Callie, " Sin said, waiting until her gaze met his. "Thank you, but you can't do this. You can't start a war over me. I'm not worth the cost." "You are worth everything to me.
Tell me, Clare: why on earth would a lovely girl like you want to marry Henry?' Everything in the room seems to hold its breath. Henry stiffens but doesn't say anything. I lean forward and smile at Mr. DeTamble and say, with enthusiasm, as though he has asked me what flavor of ice cream I like best: 'Because he's really, really good in bed.' In the kitchen there's a howl of laughter. Mr. DeTamble glances at Henry, who raises his eyebrows and grins, and finally even Mr. DeTamble smiles, and says 'Touche, my dear.
This is a powder that when applied to the air causes ghosts to become visible, ' Henry said. Magnus tilted the jar of shining grains up to the lamp admiringly, and when Henry beamed in an encouraging fashion, Magnus removed the cork. 'It seems very fine to me, ' he said, and on a whim he poured it upon his hand. It coated his brown skin, gloving one hand in shimmering luminescence. 'And in addition to its practical uses, it would seem to work for cosmetic purposes. This powder would make my very skin glimmer for eternity.' Henry frowned. 'Not eternity, ' he said, but then he brightened. 'But I could make you up another batch whenever you please!' 'I could shine at will!' Magnus grinned at Henry
Charlotte, darling," Henry said to his wife, who was staring at him in gape-mouthed horror. Jessamine, beside her, was wide eyed. "Sorry I'm late. You know, I think I might nearly have the Sensor working-" Will interrupted. "Henry," he said, "You're on fire. You do know that don't you?
It had been an awful thing to lose Henry the first time, to matrimony, but to discover what a false front he was capable of was another kind of blow, and it had left her almost speechless. Then there was the fury with herself-for she had known what Henry's love was, and still she had gone back to suffer a little more at his hands.
It had been an awful thing to lose Henry the first time, to matrimony, but to discover what a false front he was capable of was another kind of blow, and it had left her almost speechless. Then there was the fury with herself""for she had known what Henry's love was, and still she had gone back to suffer a little more at his hands.
And as if the professor could read Henry's mind, he said, "It's a curious thing, change. You never get used to it, and you're never sure where it comes from, but you better learn to expect it." "I don't recognize the quotation." Henry frowned, trying to place it. "That's because it isn't one. It is simply advice, and advice you'd be well advised to take, especially now.
There are a lot of parallels between the historical Henry VIII and Jonathan Rhys Meyers. There's an oscillation and extremity of emotion throughout his repertoire that lends itself beautifully to the nature of Henry VIII, definitely. He will push things to the limit, and yet remain in emotional control.
We knew we were doomed. The kiss was a warm acceptance of years of bickering, years of me consuming foods that I found barely edible and Henry tidying up after someone who already thought she had tidied up. When I kissed Henry I wasn't imagining Ex-boyfriend #13; I was picturing Husband #1.
Henry turned as if to dart out of the room, then swung around and stared at them, a look of confusion passing over his freckled face, as if he had only now had cause to wonder why Will, Tessa, and Jem might be crouching together in a mostly disused storage room. "What are you three doing in here, anyway?" Will tilted his head to the side and smiled at Henry. "Charades, " he said. "Massive game.
And what does he feel?" "He feels uneasy. A little afaid. Angry. Oddly, a hint of pride." "Good, " Henry said. "ANd where are you?" "Backstage." Henry shook his head gravely. "THere's no such thing as backstage. The play begins, and there's only the world it dramatizes. Now, where are you?" "With my father, the president. In his chambers." "Right. With me. Your father. And now-this is important-do you love me?" Nelson considered this; or rather, Nelson, as Alejo, considered this. "Yes, " he said after a moment. "I do." "Good. Remember that. In every scene-even when you hate me, you also love me. That's why it hurts. Got it?" Nelson said that he did. "Are you sure?" "Yes." "Good. Because it does hurt, " Henry said. "DOn't forget that. It's supposed to. Always.
Roger stooped, picked up a stone, aimed and threw it at Henry-threw it to miss. The stone, that token of preposterous time, bounced five yards to Henry's right and fell in the water. Roger gathered a handful of stones and began to throw them. Yet there was a space round Henry, perhaps six yards in diameter, into which he dare not throw. Here, invisible yet strong, was the taboo of the old life. Round the squatting child was the protection of parents and school and policemen and the law. Roger was conditioned by a civilization that knew nothing of him and was in ruins.
I've been religiously reading the O. Henry Prize anthologies every year since college, when I first began trying to write stories. Many of the authors whose work I cherish the most were people I first learned about through The O. Henry Prize Stories - and then I'd go search for their books.
And in addition to its practical uses, it would seem to work for cosmetic purposes. This powder would make my very skin glimmer for eternity." Henry frowned. "Not eternity," he said, but then he brightened. "But I could make you up another batch whenever you please!" "I could shine at will!" Magnus grinned at Henry.