OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman/Volume 3/Chapter 26

CHAP. XXVI.
When Trim came in and told my father, that Dr. Slop was in the kitchen, and busy in making a bridge,—my uncle Toby,—the affair of the jack-boots having just then raised a train of military ideas in his brain,—took it in- ​stantly for granted that Dr. Slop was making a model of the marquis d'Hôpital's bridge.—'Tis very obliging in him, quoth my uncle Toby;—pray give my humble service to Dr. Slop, Trim, and tell him I thank him heartily.
Had my uncle Toby's head been a Savoyard's box, and my father peeping in all the time at one end of it,—it could not have given him a more distinct conception of the operations in my uncle Toby's imagination, than what he had; so notwithstanding the catapulta and battering-ram, and his bitter imprecation about them, he was just beginning to triumph.———
When Trim's answer, in an instant, tore the laurel from his brows, and twisted it to pieces.
# The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman/Volume 3/Chapter 3

CHAP. III.
It was not an easy matter in any king's reign, (unless you were as lean a subject as myself) to have forced your hand diagonally, quite across your whole body, so as to gain the bottom of your opposite coat-pocket.—In the year, one thousand seven hundred and eighteen, when this happened, it was extremely difficult; so that when my uncle Toby discovered the transverse zig-zaggery of my father's approaches towards it, it instantly brought into his mind those he had done duty in, before the gate of St. Nicholas;—the idea of which drew off his attention so entirely from the subject in debate, that he had got his right hand to the bell to ring up Trim, to go and fetch his map of Namur, and his compasses and sector ​along with it, to measure the returning angles of the traverses of that attack,—but particularly of that one, where he received his wound upon his groin.
My father knit his brows, and as he knit them, all the blood in his body seemed to rush up into his face—my uncle Toby dismounted immediately.
—I did not apprehend your uncle Toby was o'horseback.———
# The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman/Volume 3/Chapter 30

CHAP. XXX.
———" All is not gain that is got into the purse."—So that notwithstanding my father had the happiness of reading the oddest books in the universe, and had moreover, in himself, the oddest way of thinking, that ever ​man in it was bless'd with, yet it had this drawback upon him after all,—that it laid him open to some of the oddest and most whimsical distresses; of which this particular one which he sunk under at present is as strong an example as can be given.
No doubt, the breaking down of the bridge of a child's nose, by the edge of a pair of forceps,—however scientifically applied,—would vex any man in the world, who was at so much pains in begetting a child, as my father was,—yet it will not account for the extravagance of his affliction, or will it justify the unchristian manner he abandoned and surrender'd himself up to.
To explain this, I must leave him upon ​the bed for half an hour,—and my good uncle Toby in his old fringed chair sitting beside him.
# The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman/Volume 3/Chapter 31

CHAP. XXXI.
——— I think it a very unreasonable demand,—cried my great grandfather, twisting up the paper, and throwing it upon the table.—By this account, madam, you have but two thousand pounds fortune, and not a shilling more,—and you insist upon having three hundred pounds a year jointure for it.—
—"Because" replied my great grandmother, "you have little or no nose, "Sir." ———
Now, before I venture to make use ​of the word Nose a second time,—to avoid all confusion in what will be said upon it, in this interesting part of my story, it may not be amiss to explain my own meaning, and define, with all possible exactness and precision, what I would willingly be understood to mean by the term: being of opinion, that 'tis owing to the negligence and perverseness of writers, in despising this precaution, and to nothing else,—That all the polemical writings in divinity, are not as clear and demonstrative as those upon a Will o' the Wisp, or any other sound part of philosophy, and natural pursuit; in order to which, what have you to do, before you set out, unless you intend to go puzzling on to the day of judgment,—but to give the world a good definition, and stand to it, of the main word you have most occasion for,—changing it, Sir, as ​you would a guinea, into small coin?—which done,—let the father of confusion puzzle you, if he can; or put a different idea either into your head, or your reader's head, if he knows how.
In books of strict morality and close reasoning, such as this I am engaged in,—the neglect is inexcusable; and heaven is witness, how the world has revenged itself upon me for leaving so many openings to equivocal strictures,—and for depending so much as I have done, all along, upon the cleanliness of my reader's imaginations.
——— Here are two senses, cried Eugenius, as we walk'd along, pointing with the fore finger of his right hand to the word Crevice, in the fifty-second page of the second volume of this book of books,​—here are two senses,—quoth he.—And here are two roads, replied I, turning short upon him,—a dirty and a clean one,—which shall we take?—The clean,—by all means, replied Eugenius. Eugenius, said I, stepping before him, and laying my hand upon his breast,—to define—is to distrust.—Thus I triumph'd over Eugenius; but I triumph'd over him as I always do, like a fool.—'Tis my comfort however, I am not an obstinate one; therefore
I define a nose, as follows,—intreating only beforehand, and beseeching my readers, both male and female, of what age, complexion, and condition soever, for the love of God and their own souls, to guard against the temptations and suggestions of the devil, and suffer him by no art or wile to put any other ideas ​into their minds, than what I put into my definition.—For by the word Nose, throughout all this long chapter of noses, and in every other part of my work, where the word Nose occurs,—I declare, by that word I mean a Nose, and nothing more, or less.
# The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman/Volume 3/Chapter 27

CHAP. XXVII.
——— This unfortunate draw-bridge of yours, quoth my father—God bless your honour, cried Trim, 'tis a bridge for master's nose.—In bringing him into the world with his vile instruments, he has crush'd his nose, Susannah says, as flat as a pancake to his face, and he is making a false bridge with a piece of cotton and a thin piece of whalebone out of Susannah's stays, to raise it up.
———Lead me, brothet Toby, cried my father, to my room this instant.
# The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman/Volume 3/Chapter 29

CHAP. XXIX.
——— I won't go about to argue the point with you,—'tis so,—and ​I am persuaded of it, madam, as much as can be, "That both man and woman bear pain or sorrow, (and, for aught I know, pleasure too) best in a horizontal position."
The moment my father got up into his chamber, he threw himself prostrate across his bed in the wildest disorder imaginable, but at the same time, in the most lamentable attitude of a man borne down with sorrows, that ever the eye of pity dropp'd a tear for.—The palm of his right hand, as he fell upon the bed, receiving his forehead, and covering the greatest part of both his eyes, gently sunk down with his head (his elbow giving way backwards) till his nose touch'd the quilt;—his left arm hung insensible over the side of the bed, his knuckles reclining upon the handle of the chamber ​pot, which peep'd out beyond the valance,—his right leg (his left being drawn up towards his body) hung half over the side of the bed, the edge of it pressing upon his shin-bone.—He felt it not. A fix'd, inflexible sorrow took possession of every line of his face.—He sigh'd once,—heaved his breast often,—but utter'd not a word.
An old set-stitch'd chair, valanced and fringed around with party-colour'd worsted bobs, stood at the bed's head, opposite to the side where my father's head reclined.—My uncle Toby sat him down in it.
Before an affliction is digested,—consolation ever comes too soon;—and after it is digested,—it comes too late: so that you see, madam, there is but a ​mark between these two, as fine almost as a hair, for a comforter to take aim at: my uncle Toby was always either on this side, or on that of it, and would often say, He believed in his heart, he could as soon hit the longitude; for this reason, when he sat down in the chair, he drew the curtain a little forwards, and having a tear at every one's service,—he pull'd out a cambrick handkerchief,—gave a low sigh,—but held his peace.
# The Man of Property/Part II

PART II
* Chapter 1. PROGRESS OF THE HOUSE
* Chapter 2. JUNE'S TREAT
* Chapter 3. DRIVE WITH SWITHIN
* Chapter 4. JAMES GOES TO SEE FOR HIMSELF
* Chapter 5. SOAMES AND BOSINNEY CORRESPOND
* Chapter 6. OLD JOLYON AT THE ZOO
* Chapter 7. AFTERNOON AT TIMOTHY'S
* Chapter 8. DANCE AT ROGER'S
* Chapter 9. EVENING AT RICHMOND
* Chapter 10. DIAGNOSIS OF A FORSYTE
* Chapter 11. BOSINNEY ON PAROLE
* Chapter 12. JUNE PAYS SOME CALLS
* Chapter 13. PERFECTION OF THE HOUSE
* Chapter 14. SOAMES SITS ON THE STAIRS
# The Moth

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "The Moth."
* sister projects: Commons category, Wikidata item.
This is a disambiguation page. It lists works that share the same title. If an article link referred you here, please consider editing it to point directly to the intended page.
* "The Moth", a short story by H.G. Wells (also titled as A Moth—Genus Novo)
* "The Moth", a poem by Walter de la Mare
# The Most Incredible Thing

translations of "Det Utroligste" (Danish)
English-language translations of The Most Incredible Thing include:
# The Mother Tried

Hall published this poem in his periodical The Amulet in 1829, and attrbuted it to "P. D." His wife Anna Maria Hall identified him as the poem's author in The Forlorn Hope, 1836.
* "The Mother Tried" in The Forlorn Hope, 1836
* "Oh, blessed is my Baby Boy" in Sacred Songs, 1853
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Mother to her Child

They tell me thou art come from a far world, Babe of my bosom! that these little arms, Whose restlessness is like the spread of wings, Move with the memory of flights scarce o'er— That through these fringed lids we see the soul Steep'd in the blue of its remember'd home; And while thou sleep'st come messengers, they say, Whispering to thee—and 'tis then I see Upon thy baby lips that smile of heaven!  And what is thy far errand, my fair child? Why away, wandering from a home of bliss, To find thy way through darkness home again? Were thou an untried dweller in the sky? Is there, betwixt the cherub that thou wert, The cherub and the angel thou mayst be, A life's probation in this sadder world? Art thou with memory of two things only, Music and light, left upon earth astray, And, by the watchers at the gate of heaven, Look'd for with fear and trembling?  God! who gavest Into my guiding hand this wanderer, To lead her through a world whose darkling paths I tread with steps so faltering—leave not me To bring her to the gates of heaven, alone! I feel my feebleness. Let these stay on— The angels who now visit her in dreams! Bid them be near her pillow till in death The closed eyes look upon Thy face once more! And let the light and music, which the world Borrows of heaven, and which her infant sense Hails with sweet recognition, be to her A voice to call her upward, and a lamp To lead her steps unto Thee!
# The Mother and the Wolf

* related authors: Aesop.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
Perry index 158
* "Of the Old Woman and of the Wulf", translated by William Caxton, edited by Joseph Jacobs, in The fables of Aesop, as first printed by William Caxton in 1484 (1484)
* "A Nurſe and a Wolfe", translated by Roger L'Estrange, in Fables of Æsop and Other Eminent Mythologists (1692)
* "The Mother and the Wolf", translated by George Fyler Townsend, in Three Hundred Æsop's Fables (1867)
* "The Nurse and the Wolf", translated by Joseph Jacobs, edited by Joseph Jacobs, illustrated by Richard Heighway, in The Fables of Æsop (1894)
* "The Wolf, the Mother, and Her Child", translated by Vernon Stanley Jones, in Æsop's fables: A New Translation (1912)
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman/Volume 7/Chapter 26

CHAP. XXVI.
What a tract of country have I run!—how many degrees nearer to the warm sun am I advanced, and how many fair and goodly cities have I seen, during the time you have been reading, and reflecting, Madam, upon this story! There's Fontainbleau, and Sens, and Joigny, and Auxerre, and Dijon the capital of Burgundy, and Challon, and Mâcon the capital of the Mâconese, and a score more upon the road to Lyons———and now I have run them over———I might as well talk to you of so many market-towns in the moon, as tell you one word about them: it will be this chapter at the least, if not both this ​and the next entirely lost, do what I will———
—Why, 'tis a strange story! Tristram.
———Alas! Madam, had it been upon some melancholy lecture of the cross—the peace of meekness, or the contentment of resignation—I had not been incommoded: or had I thought of writing it upon the purer abstractions of the soul, and that food of wisdom, and holiness, and contemplation, upon which the spirit of man (when separated from the body) is to subsist for ever—You would have come with a better appetite from it———
———I wish I never had wrote it: but as I never blot any thing out———let us ​use some honest means to get it out of our heads directly.
———Pray reach me my fool's cap———I fear you sit upon it, Madam—'tis under the cushion———I'll put it on———
Bless me! you have had it upon your head this half hour.———There then let it stay, with a
And now, Madam, we may venture, I hope, a little to go on.
# The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman/Volume 7/Chapter 3

CHAP. III.
It is a great inconvenience to a man in a haste, that there are three distinct roads between Calais and Paris, in behalf of which there is so much to be said by the several deputies from the towns which lie along them, that half a day is easily lost in settling which you'll take.
First, the road by Lisle and Arras, which is the most about—but most interesting, and instructing.
The second that by Amiens, which you may go, if you would see Chantilly———
And that by Beauvais, which you may go, if you will.
​For this reason a great many chuse to go by Beauvais.
# The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman/Volume 7/Chapter 24

CHAP. XXIV.
My dear mother, quoth the novice, coming a little to herself,—there are two certain words, which I have been told will force any horse, or ass, or mule, to go up a hill whether he will or no; be he never so obstinate or ill-will'd, the moment he hears them utter'd, he obeys. They are words magic! cried the abbess, in the utmost horrour—No; replied Margarita calmly—but they are words sinful—What are they? quoth the abbess, interrupting her: They are sinful in the first degree, answered Margarita,—they are mortal—and if we are ravish'd and die unabsolved of them, we shall both———but you may pronounce them ​to me, quoth the abbess of Andouillets—They cannot, my dear mother, said the novice, be pronounced at all; they will make all the blood in one's body fly up into one's face———But you may whisper them in my ear, quoth the abbess.
Heaven! hadst thou no guardian angel to delegate to the inn at the bottom of the hill? was there no generous and friendly spirit unemploy'd———no agent in nature, by some monitory shivering, creeping along the artery which led to his heart, to rouze the muleteer from his banquet?—no sweet minstrelsy to bring back the fair idea of the abbess and Margarita, with their black rosaries!
Rouse! rouse!—but 'tis too late—the horrid words are pronounced this moment———
​———and how to tell them—Ye, who can speak of every thing existing, with unpolluted lips—instruct me—guide me———
# The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman/Volume 7/Chapter 30

CHAP. XXX.
To those who call vexations, Vexations, as knowing what they are, there could not be a greater, than to be the best part of a day in Lyons, the most opulent and flourishing city in France, enriched with the most fragments of antiquity—and not be able to see it. To be withheld upon any account, must be a vexation; but to be witheld by a vexation———must certainly be, what philosophy justly calls
​I had got my two dishes of milk coffee (which by the bye is excellently good for a consumption, but you must boil the milk and coffee together—otherwise 'tis only coffee and milk)—and as it was no more than eight in the morning, and the boat did not go off till noon, I had time to see enough of Lyons to tire the patience of all the friends I had in the world with it. I will take a walk to the cathedral, said I, looking at my list, and see the wonderful mechanism of this great clock of Lippius of Basil, in the first place———
Now, of all things in the world, I understand the least of mechanism———I have neither genius, or taste, or fancy—and have a brain so entirely unapt for ​every thing of that kind, that I solemnly declare I was never yet able to comprehend the principles of motion of a squirrel cage, or a common knife-grinder's wheel—tho' I have many an hour of my life look'd up with great devotion at the one—and stood by with as much patience as any christian ever could do, at the other———
I'll go see the surprising movements of this great clock, said I, the very first thing I do: and then I will pay a visit to the great library of the Jesuists, and procure, if possible, a sight of the thirty volumes of the general history of China, wrote (not in the Tartarian) but in the Chinese language, and in the Chinese character too.
​Now I almost know as little of the Chinese language, as I do of the mechanism of Lippius's clock-work; so, why these should have jostled themselves into the two first articles of my list———I leave to the curious as a problem of Nature. I own it looks like one of her ladyship's obliquities; and they who court her, are interested in finding out her humour as much as I.
When these curiosities are seen, quoth I, half addressing myself to my valet de place, who stood behind me—'twill be no hurt if WE go to the church of St. Ireneus, and see the pillar to which Christ was tied—and after that, the house where Pontius Pilate lived—'Twas at ​the next town, said the valet de place—at Vienne; I am glad of it, said I, rising briskly from my chair, and walking across the room with strides twice as long as my usual pace—"for so much the sooner shall I be at the Tomb of the two lovers."
What was the cause of this movement, and why I took such long strides in uttering this—I might leave to the curious too; but as no principle of clock-work is concern'd in it—'twill be as well for the reader if I explain it myself.
# The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman/Volume 7/Chapter 23

CHAP. XXIII.
We are ruin'd and undone, my child, said the abbess to Margarita—we shall be here all night—we shall be plunder'd—we shall be ravish'd———
———We shall be ravish'd, said Margarita, as sure as a gun.
Sancta Maria! cried the abbess (forgetting the O!)—why was I govern'd by this wicked stiff joint? why did I leave the convent of Andoüillets? and why didst thou not suffer thy servant to go unpolluted to her tomb?
O my finger! my finger! cried the novice, catching fire at the word servant​—why was I not content to put it here, or there, any where rather than be in this strait?
———Strait! said the abbess.
Strait—said the novice; for terrour had struck their understandings—the one knew not what she said—the other what she answer'd.
O my virginity! virginity! cried the abbess.
———inity! ———inity! said the novice, sobbing.
# The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman/Volume 7/Chapter 25

CHAP. XXV.
All sins whatever, quoth the abbess, turning casuist in the distress they were under, are held by the confessor of our convent to be either mortal or venial: their is no further division. Now a venial sin being the slightest and least of all sins,—being halved—by taking, either only the half of it, and leaving the rest—or, by taking it all, and amicably halving it betwixt yourself and another person—in course becomes diluted into no sin at all.
​Now I see no sin in saying, bou, bou, bou, bou, bou, a hundred times together; nor is there any turpitude in pronouncing the syllable ger, ger, ger, ger, ger, were it from our matins to our vespers: Therefore, my dear daughter, continued the abbess of Andouillets—I will say bou, and thou shalt say ger; and then alternately, as there is no more sin in fou then in bou—Thou shalt say fou—and I will come in (like fa, sol, la, re, mi, ut, at our complines) with ter. And accordingly the abbess, giving the pitch note, set off thus:
| Abbess, | $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ | Bou - - bou - - bou - - |
| Margarita, | $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ | ——— ger, - - ger, - - ger |
| Margarita, | $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ | Fou - - fou - - fou - - |
| Abbess, | $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ | ——— ter, - - ter, - - ter. |
​The two mules acknowledged the notes by a mutual lash of their tails; but it went no further.———'Twill answer by an' by, said the novice.
| Abbess, | $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ | Bou- bou- bou- bou- bou- bou- |
| Margarita, | $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ | —ger, ger, ger, ger, ger, ger. |
Quicker still, cried Margarita.
Fou, fou, fou, fou, fou, fou, fou, fou, fou.
Quicker still, cried Margarita.
Bou, bou, bou, bou, bou, bou, bou, bou, bou.
Quicker still—God preserve me! said the abbess—They do not understand us, cried Margarita—But the Devil does, said the abbess of Andouillets.
# The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman/Volume 7/Chapter 28

CHAP. XXVIII.
——— Now this is the most puzzled skein of all—for in this last chapter, as far at least as it has help'd me through Auxerre, I have been getting forwards in two different journies together, and with the same dash of the pen—for I have got entirely out of Auxerre in this journey which I am writing now, and I am got half way out of Auxerre in that which I shall write hereafter—There is but a certain degree of perfection in every thing; and by pushing at something beyond that, I have brought myself into such a situation, as ​no traveller ever stood before me; for I am this moment walking across the market-place of Auxerre with my father and my uncle Toby, in our way back to dinner———and I am this moment also entering Lyons with my post-chaise broke into a thousand pieces—and I am moreover this moment in a handsome pavillion built by Pringello, upon the banks of the Garonne, which Mons. Sligniac has lent me, and where I now sit rhapsodizing all these affairs.
———Let me collect myself, and pursue my journey.
# The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman/Volume 7/Chapter 22

CHAP. XXII.
———Get on with you, said the abbess.
———Wh - - - -ysh———ysh———cried Margarita.
Sh - - - a———shu—u———shu - - u—sh - - aw———shaw'd the abbess.
———Whu—v—w———whew—w—w—whuv'd Margarita, pursing up her sweet lips betwixt a hoot and a whistle.
Thump—thump—thump—obstreperated the abbess of Andoüillets with the end of her gold-headed cane against the bottom of the calesh———
———The old mule let a f—