The bamboo shoot, after showing its tip, unfolds the thinking, catching the sunlight, artlessly and vivaciously grows up and up, talks with the blue sky in its fresh and tender heart language.
Charles was a middle-aged, lightish-colored man, with weak and watery eyes and a mustache that twisted fiercely and vigorously up, giving the lie to the limply drooping lip it concealed.
It's like tossing a rock in the air, and instead of it slowing down and falling back down into your hand, it shot upwards faster and faster, defying Earth's gravity.
A Roman-style fountain stands in front of the entrance, and inside, a spiral staircase curls upward beneath an immense chandelier, suggesting a kind of European pastiche pushing back against the California wilderness.
Draw energy up from the arches, the inner thighs, lift up through the front body, ground through the back body, and roll up, rise up strong, feel the blood flow.
Sort of visually quite classic, walking up the hill through the nursery, past the water tanks and this house was way up on the hill with all the lights blazing and people walking in groups on the way up.
She pushed up the sash—it went up stiffly and creakily, as if it hadn't been opened for a long time, which was the case; and it stuck so tight that nothing was needed to hold it up.