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doc#115 | did not, however, find himself at once. | His | next major work, completed in 1892, was |
doc#115 | poetry and carried them out on a grand scale. | His | peculiar gift, as had been suggested before |
doc#115 | obviously very similar to that of Napoleon. | His | ideal was Alexander of Macedon, as Napoleon |
doc#115 | Macedon, as Napoleon's was Julius Caesar. | His | purpose, however, was not to establish |
doc#131 | other emotional disturbance and anomie. | His | religious beliefs provide him with plausible |
doc#131 | community ... all those who adhere to them". | His | view is that every religion pertains to |
doc#133 | Ann, and then could not get back to sleep. | His | plans and dreams had revolved around her |
doc#133 | his Winchester, and started downstream. | His | visitors had crawled through the south |
doc#134 | Clayton's horse had fallen lame in the Gap. | His | wife had said to him: "Nellie is in love |
doc#135 | frame buildings. He crouched there. </p><p> | His | shout had been taken up and repeated. The |
doc#135 | Shouldering the load he peered from the door. | His | looting of the orderly room had taken only |
doc#136 | emerged as men. Gray Eyes was in the lead. | His | face was split by a vermilion streak, his |
doc#136 | near me at one of the trading sessions. | His | mouth was open, his neck corded with the |
doc#136 | to the trees that lined the small creek. | His | legs pumped furiously, his long black hair |
doc#136 | could smell woodsmoke, grease, and oil. | His | eyes were dark, fluid, fearful, and he |
doc#137 | seemed to change her mind. "He's a friend. | His | name's Joseph Sanchez. Is there anything |
doc#138 | how limited was his sphere of influence. | His | job simply consisted in registering new |
doc#138 | men. When the phone rang he answered it. | His | authority extended to the far edge of the |
doc#138 | certain he was really a spineless little man. | His | hat (the cause of his baldness?) hung on |
doc#140 | conceived figure of her benighted ancestor. | His | bright, daylight mind would whistle away |