oak

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Synonyms for oak

References in classic literature ?
In a moment or two, however, the leaves of the oak began to stir and rustle, as if a gentle breeze were wandering amongst them, although the other trees of the wood were perfectly still.
And, as the Talking Oak had already given him such good advice, Jason thought that it would not be amiss to ask for a little more.
But after a while, Jason observed that the foliage of a great branch which stretched above his head had begun to rustle, as if the wind were stirring that one bough, while all the other boughs of the oak were at rest.
And now," cried he, as he stood gazing at the calm, majestic face of the statue, "I must go to the Talking Oak and inquire what next to do.
There is no need of that, Jason," said a voice which, though it was far lower, reminded him of the mighty tones of the great oak.
Recovering a little from his surprise, Jason bethought himself that the image had been carved out of the wood of the Talking Oak, and that, therefore, it was really no great wonder, but on the contrary, the most natural thing in the world, that it should possess the faculty of speech.
man," expostulated my friend; "you don't mean to say you have covered over carved oak with blue wall-paper?
Carved oak is very pleasant to look at, and to have a little of, but it is no doubt somewhat depressing to live in, for those whose fancy does not lie that way.
No, what was sad in his case was that he, who didn't care for carved oak, should have his drawing-room panelled with it, while people who do care for it have to pay enormous prices to get it.
The figure lies within that block of oak, and it is my business to find it.
As Copley departed, happening to glance backward from the threshold, he beheld Drowne bending over the half-created shape, and stretching forth his arms as if he would have embraced and drawn it to his heart; while, had such a miracle been possible, his countenance expressed passion enough to communicate warmth and sensibility to the lifeless oak.
The face was still imperfect; but gradually, by a magic touch, intelligence and sensibility brightened through the features, with all the effect of light gleaming forth from within the solid oak.
A well-spring of inward wisdom gushed within me as I wrought upon the oak with my whole strength, and soul, and faith.
There was, in truth, an indefinable air and expression that might reasonably induce the query, Who and from what sphere this daughter of the oak should be?
That is to say, the road leads those to Greenton who succeed in passing the Oak Hill Cemetery.