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She was like nothing in his grasp; she could not stir.
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She was like nothing in his grasp; she could not stir.
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N.C. Wyeth
(American, 1882 - 1945)
She was like nothing in his grasp; she could not stir.
ca. 1919
dimensions unavailable
SUPP2000.1664
known by reproduction only
Not on view
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To prove how much she hated him she nestled against his side, and his arm enfolded her.
N.C. Wyeth
ca. 1919
Naaman's wife brought the little maid that he himself might hear her. A glow of conviction shines in her face. She knows this prophet of whom she speaks. With childish eagerness, her words tumbling over each other, she urges Naaman to implore his aid
N.C. Wyeth
1929
No wild rose of the mountain could have been purer, fresher, than she
N.C. Wyeth
1908
In imagination she could hear the rattling of drums, the ring of bugles, the low thunder of rumbling batteries.
N.C. Wyeth
1912
Genghis Khan's eyes were fixed upon the dark scarred face of the young man in front of him. Little could be hidden from those eyes, and suddenly the young man knew that he stood revealed. The inscrutable eyes gave no sign, but at last Genghis Khan beckoned to the girl, and she came and stood beside him.
N.C. Wyeth
1932
Nothing would escape their black, jewel-like, inscrutable eyes.
N.C. Wyeth
1911
A Cloud Of Dust Poured Over Him, He Lashed Down Wildly. After That There Was Nothing But Spinning Haze In Which He and His Saddle Rocked and Spun....
N.C. Wyeth
1925
She clung to his neck, looking up at the hot sky, then closed her eyes, for it seemed that the yellow devils of the flood were on them
N.C. Wyeth
1913
Too tired and weak to guide his horse, he could only hang to his saddle and trust to the beast's instinct to avoid destruction! And to spur--ever to spur--praying that he might reach help before brain and body failed together.
N.C. Wyeth
1912
She belonged in this garden, in the checker of light and shadow and exotic color, slender like a young bamboo and rounded as a purple passion fruit.
N.C. Wyeth
1917
The Supplicant Cora had cast herself to her knees; and, with hands clenched in each other and pressed upon her bosom, she remained like a beauteous and breathing model of her sex
N.C. Wyeth
1919
She was in his arms with an inarticulate cry.
N.C. Wyeth
1929