1. "Even clothing its men was a complicated and time-consuming task for the British army. While the Boers were lucky to have any coat at all, Her Majesty’s forces had the latest in rain gear to protect them from the South African summer downpours. The British clothier Thomas Burberry had developed a new fabric called gabardine, a chemically processed wool that could repel rain and was resistant to tears. The soldiers in the Boer War would be the first to wear jackets made from this fabric, which they called Burberrys. Fifteen years later, Burberry would design another coat for soldiers in World War I, with straps on the shoulders for their epaulets and brass D-rings on the belt for their swords and hand grenades. Because most of the men wearing it would be fighting in the trenches, it was called a trench coat."
- Candice Millard, Hero of the Empire: The Boer War
2. " che specie di completo avrebbe indossato: qualcosa di simile a quello che portava la Pasqua scorsa, cappellino bianco, rose, scarpine pure rosa, e un soprabito di gabardine color lavanda. «Cosa fa la domenica pomeriggio?» domandai. Stava seduta sotto il portico. I suoi amici passavano in bicicletta e si fermavano a chiacchierare. Leggeva giornaletti umoristici, si sdraiava nell'amaca. «Cosa fa in una calda notte d'estate?» Sedeva sotto il portico guardava le macchine sulla strada. Lei e sua madre facevano il popcorn. «Cosa fa suo padre in una notte d'estate?» Lavora, fa il turno di notte in una fabbrica di caldaie, ha passato la sua vita intera a mantenere una donna e i suoi rampolli e senza credito né adorazione. «Cosa fa suo fratello in una notte d'estate?» Va in giro in bicicletta e passeggia davanti al chiosco delle bibite. «Cos'è che egli muore dalla voglia di fare? Cos'è che tutti noi moriamo dalla voglia di fare? Cosa vogliamo?» Non lo sapeva. Sbadigliò. Aveva sonno. Era troppo"
- Jack Kerouac, On the Road
3. " and brown as her gabardine suit; her mind was exactly good enough to take down 140 any sort of words a minute without error, without boredom, without wincing. But she could talk idly in a bare room like this well enough; he remembered that she liked science-fiction; he drew her out. Besides, she was not Mrs. Freeman. Mrs. Freeman was a good woman; that is, she did good, and did not resent those who did bad but pitied them. For example, now: she was knitting alone while the other two talked, neither trying to join them nor, as John actively knew, making them uncomfortable for not having included her; and she was waiting for the bishop, who for reasons no one understood, hated to drive at night without her. John liked good people—no, he respected them above everyone else, above the powerful or beautiful or rich, whom he knew well, the gifted or learned or even the wise; indeed, he was rather in awe of the good, but their actual sweet presence made him uncomfortable. Mrs. Freeman there"
- George P. Elliott, An Hour Of Last Things: And Other Stories