I knocked on his meagre chest with my fore knuckle, and fetched forth a weak, gaspy
cough; but he looked at me unflinchingly, much like a defiant sparrow held in the hand.
She said: "I remember being intimidated as they opened the red velvet curtain and there she was, it was a gaspy
He had a pretty good idea what was coming next, and sure enough: after a smoker's phlegmy throat-clearing, the dragon auntie, in a really awful gaspy
vibrato, began to croon that good old 'Farmer's Lament,' the one folk song everybody knew.
Many London spoken word artists adopt a uniform style of twisting their middle class vowels into ghetto ones and drawing big gaspy
breaths between sentences like drowning goldfish.
So did everyone else, Lydia Teuscher's Cherubino recovering well from gaspy
beginnings, and Anne Mason as Marcellina overcoming an initial tightness to give a good account of the role.
PG meant something in the style of The Goonies, with the odd gaspy
moment but nothing to really bring on the nightmares.
Jose Gaspar Chavez Ceballos, "El Gaspy
," Victor Manuel Moreno Rivera, "El Narco," and Agustin Toribio Castillo, "El Kiani," were given 40 years each for the deaths of Brenda Patricia Mendez Vazquez, Irma Angelica Rosales Lozano, Elena Garcia Alvarado and one unidentified woman.
I found this especially useful when it came to push-ups, emulating the instructor who made the same kind of gaspy
effort I did.
I'm always worried she's going to pop upin City Hospital attached to an iron lung an hour after she's finished doing her gaspy
(25) Early reviewers noted the obscurity of broken phrases; for the Scotsman characters showed "a singular difficulty in expressing themselves"; whereas, for the Daily Chronicle style was "spasmodic" and dialogues were "gaspy
" (see the editors' notes in CL 2: 340-41).
Caen El Tolteca, El Narco, El Samber, El Kiani y El Gaspy
. Declaraciones como las de Jose Gaspar Ceballos Chavez, El Gaspy
, filtradas a la prensa, son espeluznantes, suenan al argumento bien trazado de una pelicula de horror y justicia.
There was Perkins back in the Sixties, manhandling the animals to save them from us; and then Cousteau through the Seventies, pondering them for some larger existential truth about ourselves; and now there is Sir David, escorting us like a knowledgeable and omnipresent museum guide, his voice respectfully trailing off into gaspy
whispers whenever he gets very close to the proceedings, the massacre by chimpanzees of a colobus monkey, for example.