Always get his head down.

He’s just like he always was.

But I always give him the cape.

Well, he’s always been fine to me.

That always helps a lot, don’t it?

It had always been the same couturier.

“I’ve always loved birds,” the American lady said.

“Well,” I said, “they’re always wrong, ain’t they?”

They’re always talking about kikes, these big Irishmen.

“Little boys always know what they want to do,” he said.

I always understood we were the first to use the machines.

Jack is Irish and the Irish always get a pretty good hand.

Jack is always calm in close and he doesn’t waste any juice.

“There’s the boys that always work for me nights,” Retana said.

I always watch for the longest day in the year and then miss it.

Jack wasn’t sore; that is, he wasn’t any sorer than he always was.

Kid Lewis always had about three new dirty things Jack couldn’t do.

Do you always watch for the longest day of the year and then miss it?

Soldier was always kidding Jack, just sort of kidding him all the time.

In the fall the war was always there, but we did not go to it any more.

Always, though, you crossed a bridge across a canal to enter the hospital.

Manuel standing at the barrera, noticed that he hooked always to the right.

She loved him as always, but she realized now it was only a boy and girl love.

We only knew then that there was always the war, but that we were not going to it any more.

An Irishman don’t draw in New York like a Jew or an Italian but they always get a good hand.

About the new house I remembered how my mother was always cleaning things out and making a good clearance.

Liz had good legs and always wore clean gingham aprons and Jim noticed that her hair was always neat behind.

Bullfighters were very relieved he was dead, because he did always in the bullring the things they could only do sometimes.

Two shining arrogant eyes had established dominance over his face and gave him the appearance of always leaning aggressively forward.

So, of course, many nights I was where I could have a light and then I slept because I was nearly always tired and often very sleepy.

Well, he wasn’t always a butler; he used to be the silver polisher for some people in New York that had a silver service for two hundred people.

He didn’t say any more, but we’ve always been unusually communicative in a reserved way, and I understood that he meant a great deal more than that.

It was Sunday and the road, rising and falling, but always dropping away from the altitude of the pass, went through the scrub woods and through villages.

Always though I found some kind of bait, but one time in the swamp I could find no bait at all and had to cut up one of the trout I had caught and use him for bait.

We were in the same senior society, and while we were never intimate I always had the impression that he approved of me and wanted me to like him with some harsh, defiant wistfulness of his own.

I would stop fishing at noon to eat my lunch; sometimes on a log over the stream; sometimes on a high bank under a tree, and I always ate my lunch very slowly and watched the stream below me while I ate.

We ourselves all understood the Cova, where it was rich and warm and not too brightly lighted, and noisy and smoky at certain hours, and there were always girls at the tables and the illustrated papers on a rack on the wall.

So they all sat around the Café du Dome, avoiding the Rotonde across the street because it is always so full of foreigners, for a few days, and then the Elliots rented a château in Touraine, through an advertisement in the New York Herald.

They came to the post-office near where she lived uptown in New York, and the duty was never exorbitant because they opened the dresses there in the post-office to appraise them and they were always very simple-looking and with no gold lace nor ornaments that would make the dresses look expensive.

Finally, though, I went back to trout-fishing, because I found that I could remember all the streams and there was always something new about them, while the girls, after I had thought about them a few times, blurred and I could not call them into my mind and finally they all blurred and all became rather the same and I gave up thinking about them almost altogether.

I mistrust all frank and simple people, especially when their stories hold together, and I always had a suspicion that perhaps Robert Cohn had never been middleweight boxing champion, and that perhaps a horse had stepped on his face, or that maybe his mother had been frightened or seen something, or that he had, maybe, bumped into something as a young child, but I finally had somebody verify the story from Spider Kelly.