My cows have been in all afternoon and look at the bloody mess they've made.

The cows turned as one entity, looked me over from head to toe, and sneezed.

The cows she said looked strong, but she was not very interested.

But the poor cow looked ready to drop and she had a three-body postmortem to attend.

He was gazing at it the way a cow looks at a meadow.

After all, when he ate a steak, he did not wonder what the cow had looked like.

The cow looked so sad that all her anger dissipated.

The cow looked like it was trying to swim.

The lanky cow looked like she could walk forever.

Maybe that's why cows always looked so placid-they spent the winter drunk.