"Rutted" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... upon the withers of the Green Mountains; saw not unchanging stretches of sand but a blanket of purest fleece, frilled and flounced and scrolled after the drift wind had billowed it up in low places but otherwise smooth and fair except where it had been rutted by sleigh runners and packed by the snow-boltered hoofs of bay Dobbins and sorrel Dollies, the ...
— From Place to Place • Irvin S. Cobb
... they have worn," says Walter Raleigh in his "Essay on Style." "A slight technical implication, a faint tinge of archaism in the common turn of speech that you employ, and in a moment you have shaken off the mob that scours the rutted highway, and are addressing a select audience of ticket-holders with closed doors." Manifold may be the implications and suggestions of even a single letter. Thus a charming anonymous essay on the word "Grey." "Gray is a quiet color for daylight ...
— The Psychology of Beauty • Ethel D. Puffer
... him as he strode down the street. It was wholly unpaved, and rutted deep, but the drifted snow had partly filled the hollows up, and it did not look very much rougher than it would have done if somebody had recently driven a plough through it. A rude plank sidewalk ran along both sides of it, raised a foot ...
— Hawtrey's Deputy • Harold Bindloss
... the Venuses, and Bacchuses, and Adonises, making love and getting drunk in many-hued frescoes on the walls of saloon and bed-chamber; and there are the narrow streets and narrower sidewalks, paved with flags of good hard lava, the one deeply rutted with the chariot-wheels, and the other with the passing feet of the Pompeiians of by-gone centuries; and there are the bake-shops, the temples, the halls of justice, the baths, the theatres—all clean-scraped and neat, and suggesting nothing of the ...
— Innocents abroad • Mark Twain
... within sight of Dapplemere, and the great machine crept up the rutted, grassy lane, Small Porges sighed, ...
— The Money Moon - A Romance • Jeffery Farnol
... unstopping his ears in rapid alternation, greatly rejoicing in the singular effect of mixed conversation chopped very small, like the contents of a mince-pie,—or meat pie, as it is more forcibly called in the deep-rutted villages lying along the unsalted streams. All at once it grew silent just round the door, where it had been loudest,—and the silence spread itself like a stain, till it hushed everything but a few corner-duets. A dark, sad-looking, middle-aged gentleman entered the parlor, ...
— Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 5, No. 30, April, 1860 • Various
... like walking with a dumb man. They left the wood and walked downhill beside a ploughed field, and in the shelter of a high wall. An open lane brought them to a gate, the gate opened on a rough road through yet another wood of larch and spruce and fir. The road was deeply rutted and they walked in single file until Charles turned, saying, 'This is what I've brought you to see. This is ...
— THE MISSES MALLETT • E. H. YOUNG
... shack silvery like old hair; the chimney had fallen; and all four quarters of glass in the single window were out. At one time the slope between the hut and the bed of the stream had evidently been a theatre of industry; for the ground was pitted and hummocked and rutted; but long ago the grass had indifferently muffled it over, like graves in an old cemetery. In the centre of this waste stood, the picture of dejection, an Indian-bred cayuse, miserable burlesque of the equine species, no bigger ...
— Two on the Trail - A Story of the Far Northwest • Hulbert Footner
... water, Scarcely halting for a drink, Toiling through the sticky quagmire, They attain the farther brink. Here the trail leads to the westward,— Once the redman's wild domain; Now the shallow rutted highway Of the settler's wagon train. Here and there along the edges, Paths work through the waving grass, Where at night from bluff to river, Sneaking coyotes find a pass. Here the meadow lark sings gaily As she leaves ...
— Nancy MacIntyre • Lester Shepard Parker
... of one of them were twisted upward in a half-arc, encircling nothing; and as the wheels jolted over the rutted cobbles these two bent arms joggled and swayed drunkenly. The other's head was canted back so that, as we passed, we looked right into his face. It was a young face—we could tell that much, even through the mask of caked mud on the drab-white skin—and ...
— Paths of Glory - Impressions of War Written At and Near the Front • Irvin S. Cobb |
