all things under heaven, are but vain, that our life is but a shadow, a warfare, a pilgrimage, a vapour, a bubble, a blast of such shortness, that David says, it is but a span long
John Lyly. Euphues: The Anatomy of Wit (1578)
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slowly holds out his hands, his head going back till both hands are a span from his breast,
James Joyce. Ulysses
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The wire door was a couple of hand-spans from his face.