"Wavy" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... first one that I ever heard sing it. He sang it to me one night in return for some old German songs I had tried to cheer him with; that is, he sang some of it: his voice was so feeble that I had to stop him. He seemed to expect death, and was prepared for it. His long, wavy blonde hair and his beardless boy face were always beautiful, but imagine them when his blue eyes were lit up by ...
— Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature and Science, Vol. XII, No. 28. July, 1873. • Various
... from another sphere instead of from another section of the country. It was not alone the olive tint of the skin, the mass of wavy dark hair tossed back from a high forehead, the sombre eyes, and the sad mouth,—a mouth that had never grown into laughing curves through telling Yankee jokes,—it was not these that gave him what the boys called a "kind of a downcasted look." The man from Tennessee had something more than ...
— The Village Watch-Tower • (AKA Kate Douglas Riggs) Kate Douglas Wiggin
... seemingly Maryan's. The grand drawing-room had been turned into a grotto, which, from floor to ceiling, was covered with soft folds of white crape and muslin, meeting above in a gigantic rosette resembling the mystic four-leafed roses painted on Gothic church-windows, save that this one at which the wavy drapery met and hid walls and ceiling was as white and soft as if formed by the fantastic play of cloud substance. But everything in that chamber, the walls, the arch, the rosette, seemed made up of clouds and of snow, on which had fallen an immense rain ...
— The Argonauts • Eliza Orzeszko (AKA Orzeszkowa)
... course, must be in story or adventure form. The fire crackled faintly; the smell crept out like incense; the lines of smoke coiled upwards, and seemed to draw the tree-stems with them. Indeed they formed a pattern together, big thick trunks marking the uprights at the corners, and wavy smoke lines weaving a delicate structure in between them. It was a kind of growing, moving scaffolding. Saying nothing, Cousin Henry pointed to it with his finger. He traced its general pattern for ...
— A Prisoner in Fairyland • Algernon Blackwood
... his fill at the face which had haunted him ever since he had seen it on the road from Caer Madoc. Yes, it was a beautiful face! even more lovely than he imagined it to be in the dim evening light. He took note of the golden wavy hair growing low on her broad, white forehead, her darker eyebrows that reminded him of the two arches of a beautiful bridge, under which gleamed two clear pools, reflecting the blue of the sky and the glint of the sunshine, the straight, well-formed ...
— By Berwen Banks • Allen Raine
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