Certainly they are not to be met with in daily experience: Nam omnia præclara tam difficilia quam rara sunt , Spinoza admirably says.
— from The World as Will and Idea (Vol. 1 of 3) by Arthur Schopenhauer

A silver image is presented to the local Siva temple, where, for a consideration, worship is done every new moon day.
— from Omens and Superstitions of Southern India by Edgar Thurston

Observing an eminence about half a mile from the south side, we crossed over the horses and baggage at a Place where the water was level with the banks, and which when within its usual channel did not exceed thirty or forty feet in width, its depth even now being only twelve feet.
— from Journals of Two Expeditions into the Interior of New South Wales by John Oxley

“Dr. Andre, tell me,” Jimmie was in deadly earnest now, “would it be possible for one to produce a gas that would put a person to sleep but not kill them?” “Certainly,” said the chemist.
— from Jimmy Drury: Candid Camera Detective by David O'Hara

Roads, tracks, and approaches, where in daylight English nursemaids could almost have wheeled perambulators with confidence, by night became hated avenues of danger for our Infantrymen moving up the line or ration-carrying to their forward companies.
— from The Story of the 2/4th Oxfordshire and Buckinghamshire Light Infantry by Geoffrey Keith Rose

The broad expanse of shirt-front, with its delicate embroidery, not obtrusively splendid, but minutely elaborate rather, involving the largest expenditure of needlework to produce the smallest and vaguest effect—a suspicion of richness, as it were, nothing more; the snowy cambric contrasts with the bronzed visage of the soldier, or blends harmoniously with the fair complexion of the fopling, who has never exposed his countenance to the rough winds of heaven; the expanse of linen proclaims the breadth of chest, and gives a factitious slimness to the waist.
— from The Lovels of Arden by M. E. (Mary Elizabeth) Braddon

And Angela was in deadly earnest now—the deadliest.
— from The Invisible Foe A Story Adapted from the Play by Walter Hackett by Louise Jordan Miln

Half a year has passed without exchanging a syllable with her of whom I dream every night.
— from Frederic Chopin: His Life, Letters, and Works, v. 1 (of 2) by Maurycy Karasowski