Prose, he said simply.
But he grew cunning.
He can pass the exam if he makes an effort.
He monopolizes the laser printer.
He leaned his back against the stern and he knew he was not dead.
He said that if he owned an airline, he would now be diversifying into other modes of transport.
He heard the eagerness and, though he was almost ten years older than Geoffrey, he suddenly felt inadequate.
He sang loudly as he walked along.
He wins people's hearts.
He is too voluble; he discusses his emotions.
He refuses to baptize her.
When he couldn't get what he wanted openly and honestly, he resorted to low cunning.
He seems invincible again, but he may not have quite the motivation he brings to the majors.
Each day he typed what he composed.
He bruised her feelings.
He admitted that he was an illegal immigrant.
"He said he will not go, but I say he shall."
He could extract little from the wording of the letter, but the spirit he thought he knew.
He skinned his knee when he fell.
He vomited all the food he had eaten.
Pleasantly self-deprecating, he acknowledges that he is not always right. But he usually is.
He owns he was wrong.
He evinced great sorrow for what he had done.
Remind yourself what you know to be eternally true about God: he is good, he loves me, he is with me, he knows what I'm going through, he CARES, and he has a good plan for my life.
If he could frown, he would.
He left the picture unfinished.
He touched the telegram.
He is the worst worker here.
He is a salesman, a marketer, a merchant, and he always thought he could tell Starbucks' story best.
He declared that he was innocent.
Is he a mouth breather?
I do "he said softly."
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