Wipe the sweat from your brow.

He wiped the sweat from his brow.

Sweat was pouring from his brow.

Sweat bathed her brow.

The sweat was dripping off my brow.

I felt the sweat trickle down my brow.

Her brow was beaded with perspiration.

And frowned and puckered his brow,

Low brow. Closeset eyes. Broken wing.

You see that furrowed brow in people.

Tom wrinkled his brow like he was displeased.

The steel is melting but there's no sweat on his brow!

We looped the coiled Snake, to the top of the Bear Cub's brow.

You can see the furrows in the brow and how the microstructure changes there.

Why that brow? I mean, it's such a powerful thing.

When they had surrendered, and he flung him upon his brow,

Bushy Brow Sensei! but these waves are indeed hard to take!

My fiery blood courses through my veins, my hand burns on my brow.

'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow Nor that is not the lark whose notes do beat

This is money that our mother earned by the sweat of her brow, so use it carefully.

She could have run and waddled all about For even the day before, she broke her brow

Upon his brow shame is asham'd to sit For 'tis a throne where honour may be crown'd

To think it should leave crying, and say 'Ay ' And yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow

Then his wife came forward, crying and beating her brow. She said, I am surely a barren, old woman.

It's there again, said Mr. Marvel, closing his eyes and clasping his hand on his brow with a tragic gesture.

His deep chest heaved as with a ground swell his tossed arms seemed the warring elements at work and the thunders that rolled away from off his swarthy brow, and the light leaping from his eye, made all his simple hearers look on him with a quick fear that was strange to them.

From the from the bridge.

is missing, in spite of all the help from the parents, from the family, from the relatives, from the neighbors, from the teachers, from the priests.

The women heard it, and, looking anxiously out, saw, far in the rear, on the brow of a distant hill, a party of men looming up against the red streaked sky of early dawn.

Not from the front, but from the side.

Nope, from Wuppertal. From the West?

They might look away from, from the, from the computer, they're distracted.

From the right, and from the left, banding together?

from the right and from the left, in crowds?

From the right and from the left, in crowds?

For a minute perhaps he sat, pen in mouth, admiring the rich golden colour above the crest, and then his attention was attracted by the little figure of a man, inky black, running over the hill brow towards him.

Separate from the flow, separate from you.

Velma from the gutter, whore from Amthor's.

From the guilty.

From the panel

From the Scene

From the Nazis.

From the cops?

From the manager.

From the stream?