Hit

“ When the Good Book declare hit is more blesseder to give than to receive, hit means what hit says; and that them that hain't got ought to humble their pride, and give them that has, a chance to bless theirselves. ”

“ The whole experience of being hit by a bullet is very interesting and I think it is worth describing in detail. ”

“ If there is a question as to a hit, acknowledge it as against yourself, as in the cut below, by springing up to attention and bringing the hilt up to the level of the mouth, blade upright, and knuckles turned to your front.
Fig. 24.—Acknowledging.
Again, if you should get an awkward cut, do all you can not to return savagely. If you make any difference at all, play more lightly for the next five minutes, otherwise you may drift into a clumsy slogging match, ending in bad blood. Finally, if you do get hold of a vicious opponent, do not, whatever you do, show that you mind his blows. ”

“ When the soldier is hit by a cannon-ball, rags are as becoming as purple. ”

“ The batter was hitting the ball due east, and the game was being played in the afternoon, so Seymour [Pg 121] had no alibi. From the moment “Cy” made that mistake, McGraw realized the value of scientific coaching, which means making the most of every hit in a game.
I have always held that a good actor with a knowledge of baseball would make a good coacher, because it is the acting that impresses a base runner, not the talking. More often than not, the conversation of a coacher, be it ever so brilliant, is not audible above the screeching of the crowd at critical moments. ”

“ It looks like a man with his fist doubled up goin’ to hit somebody.”
“I see a brown patch against the mountain side surrounded by green that has something the shape of a man—is that what you mean?”
“Yes, what is it?” ”

“ Also, knowing that each other’s hitting was so scientific as to be harmless, they would sometimes deliberately put their eye in front of their opponent’s stylish left, in the hope that the blow would raise a bruise. ”

“ And with tears of blood he cleansed the hand, The hand that held the steel: For only blood can wipe out blood, And only tears can heal: And the crimson stain that was of Cain Became Christ's snow-white seal. ”

“ Again the nameless shock comes speeding up, and as it passes, the bells ring in his ears ‘whither?’ The wheels roar in his ears ‘whither?’ All the noise and rattle shapes itself into that cry. The lights and shadows dance upon the horses’ heads like imps. ”

“ Hitch fell, and men stepped on him. All men slipped and slid in blood, crushed each other, dragged each other down, struck each other—and all heaved and cursed and shouted and hammered and tore at the shuddering tangle of human flesh and bone. ”

“ Comment of the I.B.H. "Bosh! JOE's style of hitting is no doubt uncomfortable—for the Old 'Un and his pals. THAT'S EXACTLY WHY WE LIKE IT! What's the use of hitting above the belt only when the foe's only vulnerable below it? ”

“ Minding their voices peal through the crash of destruction,
Their brawny limbs passing safe over charred laths .... their white foreheads whole and unhurt out of the flames;
By the mechanic’s wife with her babe at her nipple interceding for every person born ”

“ What wind blew you hither, Pistol? PISTOL. Not the ill wind which blows no man to good. ”

“ If the dire speed of spear that cleaves the bones And bares the inner thews hits not the life, Yet follows a fainting and a foul collapse, And, on the ground, dazed tumult in the mind, And whiles a wavering will to rise afoot. So nature of mind must be corporeal, since From stroke and spear corporeal 'tis in throes. ”

“ About, about, in reel and rout
The death-fires danced at night;
The water, like a witch's oils,
Burnt green, and blue and white. ”

“ Hitting, then, is the weak point of the gamp. Try to remember this when you feel inclined to administer a castigation to man or beast, and bear in mind that a comic scene may ensue, when, hot and angry, you stand with your best umbrella broken and half open, with the silk torn and the ribs sticking out in all directions. ”

“ Unwind my riddle.
Cruel as hawks the hours fly;
Wounded men seldom come home to die;
The hard waves see an arm flung high;
Scorn hits strong because of a lie;
Yet there exists a mystic tie. ”

“ I suppose Little I'd ever teach a son, but hitting, Shooting, war, hunting, all the arts of hurting. ”

“ My soul of thee!
Tell thou the world, when my bones lie whitening
Amid the last homes of youth and eld,
That once there was one whose veins ran lightning
No eye beheld.
Tell how his boyhood was one drear night-hour,
How shone for him, through his griefs and gloom,
No star of all heaven sends to light our
Path to the tomb.
Roll on, my song, and to after ages
Tell how, disdaining all earth can give,
He would have taught men, from wisdom's pages,
The way to live. ”

“ Was he dreaming or had he really seen a white form rise from the seat beyond the gate and flit noiselessly, like a specter, into the shadow of the trees? He rubbed his eyes, his heart beating a little faster. Light and dark were deceptive to sight, and yet—he could have sworn that he had seen a tall figure move into the darkness. A ghost? More likely a fairy, on such a night, he thought, smilingly, or—why, surely, a druidess! ”

“ All things have something more than barren use;
There is a scent upon the brier,
A tremulous splendour in the autumn dews,
Cold morns are fringed with fire.
The clodded earth goes up in sweet-breath'd flowers;
In music dies poor human speech,
And into beauty blow those hearts of ours
When Love is born in each.
Daisies are white upon the churchyard sod,
Sweet tears the clouds lean down and give.
The world is very lovely. O my God,
I thank Thee that I live! ”

“ In the end he grew to care no whit what fate befell him if only he might sleep. And yet some voice at the back of his tired brain called him awake whenever his eyes closed and sent him staggering on again. And thus, at length, what wits remained to him stayed his steps and sent him feeling about in the darkness, while hope surged back to his heart. ”

“ No longer could he do a fast twenty rounds, hammer and tongs, fight, fight, fight, from gong to gong, with fierce rally on top of fierce rally, beaten to the ropes and in turn beating his opponent to the ropes, and rallying fiercest and fastest of all in that last, twentieth round, with the house on its feet and yelling, himself rushing, striking, ducking, raining showers of blows upon showers of blows and receiving showers of blows in return, and all the time the heart faithfully pumping the surging blood through the adequate veins. ”

“ I am the mash’d fireman with breast-bone broken, Tumbling walls buried me in their debris, Heat and smoke I inspired, I heard the yelling shouts of my comrades, I heard the distant click of their picks and shovels, They have clear’d the beams away, they tenderly lift me forth. I lie in the night air in my red shirt, the pervading hush is for my sake, Painless after all I lie exhausted but not so unhappy, White and beautiful are the faces around me, the heads are bared of their fire-caps, The kneeling crowd fades with the light of the torches. ”

“ The sod scarce heaved; and that tall flower that wets—
Like a child, half in tenderness and mirth—
Its mother's face with heaven-collected tears
When the low wind, its playmate's voice, it hears.
And in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine,
Green cowbind and the moonlight-colour'd May,
And cherry-blossoms, and white cups whose wine
Was the bright dew yet drain'd not by the day;
And wild roses, and ivy serpentine,
With its dark buds and leaves wandering astray;
And flowers, azure, black, and streak'd with gold,
Fairer than any waken'd eyes behold. ”

“ Hand to hand, blow for blow, shot for shot, shout for shout,
Till the earth seemed to boil with the heat of our toil.
But in less than five minutes we felt them recoil,
Heard their shrill rally sound, and, like hares from the hound,
Each ran for himself: one and all fled the ground! ”

“ As the heavy tool passes over the shoulder the impetus of the swinging motion lightens the weight, and something like a thrill passes through the sinews. Why is it so pleasant to strike? What secret instinct is it that makes the delivery of a blow with axe or hammer so exhilarating? ”

“ One blow, at last, inflicts a ghastly wound in his ankle; he clutches at the bed for support, but misses it, and falls, groaning heavily, at full length on the floor, where, taken at a disadvantage, a sword is thrust into his heart, and with horrid struggles he dies. ”

“ And a gallant fleet was sailing there whose fighting days are done,
Sloop and galleon, brig and pinnace, all the rigs you never met,
Fighting frigate, grave three-decker with their snowy canvas set;
Dozed and dreamed, when, on a sudden, ev'ry sail began to swell,
For the breeze has spoken strangers, with a stirring tale to tell,
And a thousand eager voices flung the challenge out to sea:
"Come they hither in the old way, in the only way that's free?" ”

“ Bed? Here was bed enough, here on the warm grass, with the moonlight for a coverlet of silver lace and the breath of the night to soothe him to sleep. He stretched himself out on the ground with his arms under his head and his face full in the radiance of the great white world above him. ”

“ In a masked dance it is easy to give a death-blow between the shoulders. Two crowds meet and laugh and shout and mingle almost inextricably, and if a shriek of pain should arise, it is not noticed in the din, and when they part, if one should stagger and fall bleeding to the ground, who can tell who has given the blow? ”

“ The Daphne-tree threw its grotesque shadows on the turf; the iris bloomed along the old wall; the birds sang and called from the boughs; and beyond the iron fence the roses were courtesying and swaying—flares of pink and yellow, white and red—on their slender stalks; the Enchanted Garden was as beautiful as ever. Burton, his hands behind his back, a little stream of smoke curling up from under his moustache, stood in the shade of the tree in the corner and viewed the scene with unresponsive eyes. ”

“ MY good blade carves the casques of men, My tough lance thrusteth sure, My strength is as the strength of ten, Because my heart is pure. The shattering trumpet shrilleth high, The hard brands shiver on the steel, The splintered spear-shafts crack and fly, The horse and rider reel: They reel, they roll in clanging lists, And when the tide of combat stands, Perfume and flowers fall in showers, That lightly rain from ladies’ hands. ”

“ Now the brands which I had stirred broke into a slight flicker of flame, and as they did so I crouched back behind the body, lest the light should make me a mark for the dreaded bullet. Still no sound was within the house, though I could hear distinctly the pulsation of my heart, and each beat seemed to send the blood in a rush to my brain. ”

“ Let Love and Youth conduct thy pleasures thither.
Lighten forth smiles to clear the clouded air,
And calm the tempest which my sighs do raise;
Pity and smiles do best become the fair;
Pity and smiles must only yield thee praise. ”

“ Afar a mowing-machine moved slowly against the horizon, and the clatter of its blades seemed to intensify the heat, like the midsummer rasping of a locust. All about was the fragrance of clover, of red clover knee-deep in the ripe meadows, of alsike clover hugging the lichened walls, of white clover, shy and lowly, peering from the wild tangle along the way. Milkweed was adding pale mauve shadows to its delicate green; self-heal bravely defied the dust with purple blooms, and up the walls the bindweed was shooting its green arrows and tinkling its triumph on pinky bells. ”

“ There, hour by hour, the lazy tide creeps in
Upon the sands I shall not pace again —
Save in a dream, — and, hour by hour, the tide
Creeps lazily out, and I behold it not,
Nor the young moon slow sinking to her rest
Behind the hills; nor yet the dead white trees
Glimmering in the starlight: they are ghosts
Of what has been, and shall be never more.
No, never more!
Nor shall I hear again
The wind that rises at the dead of night
Suddenly, and sweeps inward from the sea,
Rustling the tussock, nor the wekas' wail
Echoing at evening from the tawny hills. ”

“ With womanish hair and ring,
Yet heavy was his hand on sword,
Though light upon the string.
And as he stirred the strings of the harp
To notes but four or five,
The heart of each man moved in him
Like a babe buried alive. ”

“ There is a joy, too, in the wielding of an axe by strong hands, in swinging it lightly and deftly and driving the blade home, and in the thrill of the yielding shock which passes with each blow from the handle to the fingers that grip it. ”

“ More pounded, flame-corroded, death-accurst;
A pretty piece of work, beyond a doubt.
Now for the third, and there your job is done,
So on you charge. You never stop to think.
Your cursed puttee's trailing as you run;
You feel you'd sell your soul to have a drink.
The acrid air is full of cracking whips.
You wonder how it is you're going still.
You foam with rage. Oh, God! to be at grips
With someone you can rush and crush and kill.
Your sleeve is dripping blood; you're seeing red ”

“ A terrible blow, as with a whip, an uproar, a shattering blow. The earth trembled and torn-off leaves whirled through the air. Snatching for air, and holding on with both hands to the support of the cross, so as not to be swept away. ”

“ He who fired the shot knows that, by sight as well as sound. For he sees—all see—a man reeling, staggering, about to fall, and another with arms outstretched, as if partly in surprise, partly with intent to support him. ”

“ Death crouches and thinks and thinks:
"When will the sword's blade sharp and bright
Forth from the scabbard spring
And cut the network of the cloak
Enmeshing me ring on ring—
When will the foe's delivering stroke
Set me free
To dance
And sing?" ”

“ I seem to feel her hands at play,
⁠As though they gave me sportive battle.
Yes, heavenly music seems to steal
⁠Where thought of her forever lingers,
And round my heart I always feel
⁠The twining of her dimpled fingers! ”

“ The muffled drum, the death march, shakes the soul!
Rocks on all sides, and breakers! at the helm
Weak human hand and weary human eyes.
The shout and clamor of our dreary strife
Goes up conflicting to the angry skies. ”

“ The [Pg 174] first cut exhibits a sort of Death’s dance, in eight small compartments. 1. A woman in bed just delivered of a child, with which Death is running away. 2. A man sitting at a table, Death seizes him behind, and pulls him over the bench on which he is sitting. 3. Death drowning a man in a river. 4. Flames of fire issue from a house, Death tramples on a man endeavouring to escape. 5. Two men fighting, one of whom pierces the other with his sword. The wounded man is seized by Death, the other by the Devil. 6. A man on horseback is seized by Death also mounted behind. ”