"Sick of" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... things right; and she had thought, too,—or perhaps felt rather than thought,—that Lord George had emancipated himself from the thraldom of his late love rather too quickly. Mary was a dear girl. She was quite prepared to make Mary her friend, being in truth somewhat sick of the ill-humours and disappointments of Guss Mildmay; but it might be as well that Mary should be a little checked in her triumph. She herself had been obliged to put up with old Mr. Houghton. She never for a moment told herself ...
— Is He Popenjoy? • Anthony Trollope
... Their names are better known than the generals, and they advertise each other and get a big share of the glory; and then they can always decently step aside when they've got enough. They needn't stay on the fighting-line, and that's a consideration. No, I'm sick of ordinary soldiering, but I'm willing to be a field-marshal. My father has an interest in the Metropolitan Daily Lyre, and I've written to him for an appointment as correspondent in the Cubapines. What I've learned ...
— Captain Jinks, Hero • Ernest Crosby
... before he galloped among the men, and even after they, in obedience to his orders, had fallen back slowly and taken up their original position, he growled to the aide as they began the ascent, "I'm sick of ...
— Janice Meredith • Paul Leicester Ford
... pity," the earl said; "for you lose the cream of the joke. Now, I shall go on shore tomorrow and get everything that is wanted, and then the sooner we are off the better; we have been here a fortnight, and I am sick of the place." ...
— The Bravest of the Brave - or, with Peterborough in Spain • G. A. Henty
... remote, unknown, Save to the silent few, who, leaving earth, Quit all communion with their living time. I lose myself in that ethereal void, Till I have tired my wings and long to fill My breast with denser air, to stand, to walk With eyes not raised above my fellow-men. Sick of my unwalled, solitary realm, I ask to change the myriad lifeless worlds I visit as mine own for one poor patch Of this dull spheroid and a little breath To shape in word or deed to ...
— The Poet at the Breakfast Table • Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.
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