She

I asked Mary, but she said that she didn't know.

After the cat killed a mouse, she left it on our doorstep.

She seems a clever girl, your Isabel.

Goodly she entertaind those noble knights, / And brought them vp into her castle hall […]

The mother, Ekaterina Pavlovna, who at one time had been handsome, but now, asthmatic, depressed, vague, and over-feeble for her years, tried to entertain me with conversation about painting. Having heard from her daughter that I might come to Shelkovka, she had hurriedly recalled two or three of my landscapes which she had seen in exhibitions in Moscow, and now asked what I meant to express by them.

His family, who live in West Des Moines, Iowa, have been left “devastated,” his owner Tracy Wolfe said in GWR press release. “He was just the best giant boy,” she added.

Morgan Sanner, a 27-year-old human resources worker in Ohio, told New York magazine’s The Cut that she felt inspired to follow in the footsteps of other people — who she noticed were “taking significant breaks” from their careers — after going abroad for the first time.

She could do forty knots in good weather.

She is a beautiful boat, isn’t she?

She is a poor place, but has beautiful scenery and friendly people.

She only gets thirty miles to the gallon on the highway, but she’s durable.

Prodigal in everything, summer spreads her blessings with lavish unconcern, and waving her magic wand across the landscape of the world, she bids the sons of men to enter in and possess. Summer is the great consummation.

She is my 57 Chevy / My 57 Chevy runs so fine / No one can beat my 57 Chevy

The car’s engine revved up, and the back wheels screeched. Then she lurched forward at terrific speed.

Optimal experience is thus something that we make happen. For a child, it could be placing with trembling fingers the last block on a tower she has built, higher than any she has built so far; for a swimmer, it could be trying to beat his own record; for a violinist, mastering an intricate musical passage.

Pat is definitely a she.

Come, come, we know very well what all the matter is; but if one won’t, another will; so pretty a gentleman need never want a lady. I am sure, if I was you, I would see the finest she that ever wore a head hanged, before I would go for a soldier for her.

And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare / As any she belied with false compare.

he came home to find […] honest Swartz in her favourite amber-coloured satin, with turquoise bracelets, countless rings, flowers, feathers, and all sorts of tags and gimcracks, about as elegantly decorated as a she chimney-sweep on May-day.

“They were all hairy-faced bulls but one,” he said, “and that one was a she, lighter in color even than this stranger,” and he chucked a thumb at Tarzan.

“Then,” I said, much amused, “you think that if you were mixed up in a crime, say a murder, you’d be able to spot the murderer right off?” “Of course I should. Mightn’t be able to prove it to a pack of lawyers. But I’m certain I’d know. I’d feel it in my fingertips if he came near me.” “It might be a ‘she’,” I suggested.

Plucked her eyebrows on the way / Shaved her legs and then he was a she

A world where the hes are so much more common than the shes can hardly be seen as a welcoming place for women.

If somebody wants to go by “he,” continually “sheing” them [is invalidating].

In his conversation with the woman, Ari would 'he' himself using the masculine pronoun and she would reply by consistently 'she'''ing' him. Such examples share something about the emotional quality of language[…]