Word: astrally
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: all
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...American mother of Cintra Amory. The two girls, growing up together in the flowery atmosphere of pre-War Europe, grew up differently. Lilias, a remote and nervous comet, began her life by being engaged to Franz Czarany who later veered through an Italian milky way to exert an astral influence on Cintra. She, a steadier but not less brilliant star than Lilias, later married Terrence Down. When Lilias came to Paris after the War, Terrence was not blind to her bright beauty; but when she no longer dazzled his gaze, he returned to his wife, leaving Lilias to pursue...
...Quotation from one "Lindbergh song": And as you winged your astral way God smiled-you were so near- He could not fail such perfect faith, Fly on and have no fear. Oh, glorious France, Oh, noble France, How gallant are your ways, You sheathe fresh sorrows with a smile. To glorify his days...
Tales of Rigo. Apparently, the astral body of Drift, a play that lived a short life last season at the Cherry Lane Theatre, is up and doing. It now ambles on the stage of the Lyric in a stagnant incarnation, punctuated at grateful intervals by tolerable, vaguely familiar songs. The plot concerns one Rigo, polychromatic gypsy musician, onetime darling of society, now embittered enemy. His melodious followers ramble the forests in simple glee, vocalizing over three stumps, serenading the birds, celebrating Zita, Rigo's elfin granddaughter. She falls in love with a society man. There is mystery about Zita...
There was the matter of an international spiritualist flag, and one was adopted, white with a golden sun (the astral body) spreading bright rays (psychic emanations) after the pattern of Japan's rising sun. There was the matter of mourning, and they passed a resolution denouncing rites by the "living" for the "dead" as "egotistical". There was laying of wreaths on the grave of the Unknown Soldier, ("They live always," read Sir Conan Doyle's wreath. "There is no death; there are no dead," read that of Mrs. M. D. Cadwallader of Chicago.); and there was denunciation...
...them all! The moon has not been, is not, and never will be a gong. Having for some time concentrated in astronomy--except on foggy nights--I feel quite free to say that John Dont Passout has taken great liberties with the moon. Speaking purely on behalf of that astral body, I wish to state that howsoever much it resembles a gong, a wash boiler, or an ash can, it assuredly IS not. Those who know anything at all about moons realize perfectly well that they are made of green cheese. Professor Wogglebug...