From Anne Beaumont's Another Time, Another Place

          I am very beat. Lipstick. Hair combed. Bandage on my leg from raincoat lining. Typewriter in lap. Staring up at the spot where the little thin line of light is growing, like hope.

          From Robert Cormier's The Chocolate War

          What could he say? After the phone calls and beating. After the desecration of his locker. The silent treatment. Pushed downstairs. What they did to Goober, to Brother Eugene. What guys like Archie and Janza did to the school. What they would do to the world when they left Trinity.

          From Gerald A. Browne's Slide

          Man of forty-one with a thirty-two-inch waist. Wearing white sharkskin tennis shorts and a white cotton knit shirt, his lucky favorite. Thirty-five-dollar Tretorn shoes, the best, the kind that cushioned the arch, softly snugged the heel and made his reflexes feel improved. The shoes would be ruined after this; they’d probably dry stiff.

          From Tom Wolfe's The Right Stuff

          To take off in an F-100 at dawn and cut in the afterburner and hurtle twenty-five thousand feet up into the sky so suddenly that you felt not like a bird but like a trajectory, yet with full control, full control of five tons of thrust, all of which flowed from your will and through your fingertips, with the huge engine right beneath you, so close that it was as if you were riding it bareback, until you leveled out and went supersonic, an event registered on earth by a tremendous crackling boom that shook windows, but up here only by the fact that you now felt utterly free of the earth---to describe it, even to wife, child, near ones and dear ones, seemed impossible.