FORTY years ago Singapore, now home to the world's busiest port, was a forlorn outpost still garrisoned by the British.
Even the bigger mammals had not distressed her: the monkeys that clamored in the cages and made faces at her when she came in with feed or a hose, the forlorn-looking dogs that rarely barked.
The house stood forlorn and empty.
They popped up their heads and saw the forlorn little maiden.
Dany sat amongst the rumpled bedclothes with her arms about her knees so forlorn that she did not hear when Missandei came creeping in with bread and milk and figs.
Privately, both of us nursed a forlorn hope.
I specially liked the tenor voices which had more of human flesh and blood in them, and seemed less like the disembodied lament of a forlorn spirit.
He came to her, his black face as forlorn as a lost and masterless hound.
He made his final forlorn attempt.
A forlorn, jailbird's face with a nobby forehead running back into a bald scalp, a crooked nose, and battered-looking cheekbones above which his eyes were fierce and watchful.
She had a forlorn look on her face.
Griffins and sea monsters, gods and Kings, most of the inmates of this forlorn encampment spend their days and nights with their weathered faces turned to the heavens.
Its author emerges as a grittier W.G. Sebald, a lyrical German writer with the same forlorn urge to rescue lives and cultures from oblivion.
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