The branches were high above.

“How was it up above?” asked the innkeeper.

They made the water smooth and deep above them.

He liked the round Dutch collars above their sweaters.

Just above the hook or your bait will float on the water.

Above them they heard a shout, then another shout of laughter.

We were at the top of the last range above Spezia and the sea.

Ahead was the smooth dammed-back flood of water above the logs.

Nick reached the whisky bottle from the shelf above the fireplace.

The rod above his head he led the trout over the net, then lifted.

The foundations of the Mansion House hotel stuck up above the ground.

Two men tied his suitcase on the back of the car, above our suitcases.

The little man’s wrist was thick and the muscles bulged above the bone.

He lived upstairs above the blacksmith shop and took his meals at A. J. Smith’s.

As Nick crossed the open field above the orchard the door of the cottage opened and Bill came out.

On the forearm, from just above the wrist to the elbow, were small blue circles around tiny dark blue punctures.

There was the boom of a bass drum, and the voice of the orchestra leader rang out suddenly above the echolalia of the garden.

The rain was still falling, but the darkness had parted in the west, and there was a pink and golden billow of foamy clouds above the sea.

For some time as he walked Nick had been in sight of one of the big islands of pine standing out above the rolling high ground he was crossing.

But above the grey land and the spasms of bleak dust which drift endlessly over it, you perceive, after a moment, the eyes of Doctor T. J. Eckleburg.

He wallowed down the stream, above his knees in the current, through the fifty yards of shallow water above the pile of logs that crossed the stream.

In a village, twenty kilometres above Spezia, there was a crowd in the square, and a young man carrying a suitcase came up to the car and asked us to take him in to Spezia.

Sometimes a shadow moved against a dressing-room blind above, gave way to another shadow, an indefinite procession of shadows, who rouged and powdered in an invisible glass.

One day she found that she liked it the way the hair was black on his arms and how white they were above the tanned line when he washed up in the washbasin outside the house.

I looked back as we came out and there was only the sea, and below in the bay, a line of beach with fishing-boats and above, on the side of the hill, a town and then capes far down the coast.

Her face, above a spotted dress of dark blue crêpe-de-chine, contained no facet or gleam of beauty, but there was an immediately perceptible vitality about her as if the nerves of her body were continually smouldering.

Out of the corner of his eye Gatsby saw that the blocks of the sidewalks really formed a ladder and mounted to a secret place above the trees⁠—he could climb to it, if he climbed alone, and once there he could suck on the pap of life, gulp down the incomparable milk of wonder.

She had caught a cold, and it made her voice huskier and more charming than ever, and Gatsby was overwhelmingly aware of the youth and mystery that wealth imprisons and preserves, of the freshness of many clothes, and of Daisy, gleaming like silver, safe and proud above the hot struggles of the poor.

As he lowered his head to hook, Zurito sunk the point of the pic in the swelling hump of muscle above the bull’s shoulder, leaned all his weight on the shaft, and with his left hand pulled the white horse into the air, front hoofs pawing, and swung him to the right as he pushed the bull under and through so the horns passed safely under the horse’s belly and the horse came down, quivering, the bull’s tail brushing his chest as he charged the cape Hernandez offered him.