The Ox was drawn, first, from the mire
, and, next, from his skin.
To my dismay the creature flew straight for the great mire, and my acquaintance never paused for an instant, bounding from tuft to tuft behind it, his green net waving in the air.
Life has become like that great Grimpen Mire, with little green patches everywhere into which one may sink and with no guide to point the track.
Never can there come fog too thick, never can there come mud and mire
too deep, to assort with the groping and floundering condition which this High Court of Chancery, most pestilent of hoary sinners, holds this day in the sight of heaven and earth.
Undoubtedly, since so much could be enclosed in so little a thing as the foundation stone of a public building, this enormous sphere should contain vast histories, profounds of research achieved beyond man's wildest guesses, laws and formulae that, easily mastered, would make man's life on earth, individual and collective, spring up from its present mire to inconceivable heights of purity and power.
It was as if God's World had fallen into the muck mire of the abyss underlying the bottom of hell; as if Jehovah's Commandments had been presented on carved stone to the monkeys of the monkey cage at the Zoo; as if the Sermon on the Mount had been preached in a roaring bedlam of lunatics.
master!--Help!" were his last words; but his voice, despairing, unaided, half stifled already by the rising mire
, died away feebly on the night.
The shape was the shape of an aged woman, and even through the blood and mire
I knew her.
De angels is gwine to 'mire
you jist as much as dey does 'yo mammy.
He's expected at night, and the pasty's made hot, They broach the brown ale, and they fill the black pot, And the goodwife would wish the goodman in the mire
, Ere he lack'd a soft pillow, the Barefooted Friar.
It was a pitiful sight to see one of these vehicles deep in the mire
; the axle-tree broken; the wheel lying idly by its side; the man gone miles away, to look for assistance; the woman seated among their wandering household gods with a baby at her breast, a picture of forlorn, dejected patience; the team of oxen crouching down mournfully in the mud, and breathing forth such clouds of vapour from their mouths and nostrils, that all the damp mist and fog around seemed to have come direct from them.
The more conscious I was of goodness and of all that was "sublime and beautiful," the more deeply I sank into my mire
and the more ready I was to sink in it altogether.