"Oilcloth" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... That doesn't express it at all. Why, if you'd lived in an abandoned sheep camp for months and prepared your own meals on a broken stove, and eaten them all alone on a bumpy table covered with a piece of oilcloth, and taken your bath in an icy cold creek and then only on the darkest nights for fear someone were watching, and read a few magazines over and over 'til you knew even the advertisements by heart—then suddenly found yourself seated in a room like this, ...
— The Gold Girl • James B. Hendryx
... stood awhile outside to see The tall, big-bellied bottles three— Red, blue, and emerald, richly bright Each with its burning core of light. The bell chimed as she pushed the door. Spotless the oilcloth on the floor, Limpid as water each glass case, Each thing precisely in its place. Rows of small drawers, black-lettered each With curious words of foreign speech, Ranked high above the other ware. The old strange fragrance filled the air, A fragrance ...
— Georgian Poetry 1920-22 • Various
... the canvas, which forms the basis of oilcloth, has been covered with paint of one uniform tint, the remainder of the processes which it passes through, are a series of copyings by surface printing, from patterns formed upon wooden blocks very similar to ...
— On the Economy of Machinery and Manufactures • Charles Babbage
... department store doesn't get much chance to enjoy that tangential advertising, as Fruehling calls it. Why, when our interior decorating shark puts a few volumes of a pirated Kipling bound in crushed oilcloth or a copy of "Knock-kneed Stories," into the window to show off a Louis XVIII boudoir suite, display space is charged up against my department! Last summer he asked me for "something by that Ring fellow, I forget the name," to put a punchy ...
— The Haunted Bookshop • Christopher Morley
... received by the district inspector, Kerbesh. He had spent the night on duty, had not slept his fill, and was angry. His luxurious, fan-shaped red beard was crumpled. The right half of the ruddy face was still crimsonly glowing from lying long on the uncomfortable oilcloth pillow. But the amazing, vividly blue eyes, cold and luminous, looked clear and hard, like blue porcelain. Having ended interrogating, recording, and cursing out with obscenities the throng of ragamuffins, taken in during the night for sobering up and now being sent ...
— Yama (The Pit) • Alexandra Kuprin
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