linen

I wandered Europe for years after the Great War.

He closed the door of the room, came forward to the dressing table, and put down his burdens.

High up where it's warm and dry. Or in a linen cupboard with a vent.

It was bright, pink, and shiny just as it had been at first.

A life without shame in his day, what that meant was a linen shirt, and today, well, you still need the shirt, but you need the hybrid car, the HDTV, two holidays a year in the sun, the netbook and iPad, the list goes on an almost inexhaustible supply of goods, driven by this anxiety.

They were universally a thirsty race.

The more I pondered over this harpooneer, the more I abominated the thought of sleeping with him.

Speak e! tell ee me who ee be, or dam me, I kill e! again growled the cannibal, while his horrid flourishings of the tomahawk scattered the hot tobacco ashes about me till I thought my linen would get on fire.

Here, by the very corner of my field, still nearer to town, Zilpha, a colored woman, had her little house, where she spun linen for the townsfolk, making the Walden Woods ring with her shrill singing, for she had a loud and notable voice.