There you can see the very veins and the throb of the blood.
The throb of these sounds was as a background to the evening--fierce, passionate, barbaric.
Every throb of his heart, almost every evolution of his brain, found an echo in me.
He wished to open his spirit to the feeling and throb of the living world.
Little by little his pulses quieted, his temples ceased to throb.
She was all his, and he was certain to know every thought of her mind and every throb of her heart.
It was the same clear voice, with the throb of tender feeling in it.
There was no faltering in her voice, never a throb of pathos.
When I came in at the end of the day, my heart used to throb with gladness.
All life presses around one, the throb and the problem are close, are close.
