Word: ades
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...quotations from moderns seem less striking than those from the past, it may be because there are so many moderns in the Morley revision. Editor Morley included George Ade ("Never put off until Tomorrow what should have been Done Early in the Seventies"), many newspaper rhymesters, Eliot, Lenin, Pound. Marx ("The only part of the so-called national wealth that actually enters into the collective possessions of modern peoples is their national debt"). Generous to his colleagues on The Saturday Review of Literature, he gives two pages to William Rose Benet, almost three pages to Stephen Vincent Benet, a half...
...groundwork for his drive, Editor Mabley, a 22-year-old Beta Theta Pi, assigned reporters to cover eight Champaign vice resorts. They interviewed inmates, photographed a brothel façade with the madame in the doorway, a college student "planted" on the porch. Fortnight ago the Illini opened its pack of revelations, drew forth these...
...life are clipped, wholly objective, brilliantly businesslike, set down only to help him remember details of what he saw. Some of them are like a modern Imagist poem or a sketch for a cinema continuity: "The entrance to the castle: The Guardsmen in the court, the faÇade, the lane between two walls. At the end, under a sort of vault, men seated, making a brown silhouette against...
...thriving business, sketching his designs himself and personally directing fitters as they drape dresses on live models. His new Manhattan establishment is identical in style and layout with his Paris shop. An old five-story private house at 32 East 67th Street, with a new, shining, white façade and MARCEL ROCHAS in deep blue over the lintel, it sits in a row of old brownstone apartments, like a blue-eyed blonde on a bench with pickaninnies. Inside is a big desk which no one, however pompous, may pass without presenting an invitation (issued this week only to socialites...
...that is the sign of maidenhood"; and ends up in the classic predicament of all lyric lovers: starkly sitting on his bottom, all alone. A genius at mimicry. Joyce succeeds in imparting a flavor of old-fashioned purity to his verses; but behind this not entirely insincere façade the reader can sense, and sometimes see, his peculiarly Irish irreverence...