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...Miss Aura Richards of her nine-year-old guest Ruby Long: "I liked her more than some up here...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Religion: Successful Visit | 8/28/1944 | See Source »

...Cherry Orchard (translated from the Russian of Anton Chekhov by Irina Skariatina; produced by Carly Wharton and Margaret Webster) is usually considered Chekhov's masterpiece. To some people it may seem, with the passage of time, to have rather more aura than substance, to offer only a picture of impotent wills where Chekhov's The Three Sisters makes a drama of them. But certainly, with its gallery of weak, foolish, charming aristocrats, The Cherry Orchard has a fragrance and touching gaiety to be found in no other Chekhov play...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: The Theater: Old Play in Manhattan, Feb. 7, 1944 | 2/7/1944 | See Source »

With as much of an aura of the coming millennium as GWTW surrounding its approach, FWTBT--"For Whom the Bell Tolls"--seems to be a little battle-scarred but still on its feet. If Hemingway's story had hit the screen unpublicized it probably would have been picked out as a marvelous picture and knowing souls would shake their heads and say, "Now there's a fine picture. Why didn't those Hollywood people give it a better break...

Author: NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED | Title: MOVIEGOER | 10/19/1943 | See Source »

...years the mastermind of the Alliance, fled his country; the Unholy Alliance was dead. Yet its influence on the minds of men lived on. For this despotic use of international force by a club of contented war-winners gave the whole ideal of international police an unsavory aura which lasted well into the 20th Century...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: FREEDOM FROM ATTACK: International Police | 9/13/1943 | See Source »

...ceiling. Open, close; open, close; "The human body has about fifteen pints of blood," he heard the Bio D man say; open, close, pump. The nurse called him. The pipe was gone and she waved the bottle of deep red, admiringly, for him to see. She thanked him. The aura of patriotic benevolence that he had felt was gone. "Gee, you'd think I'd had a baby or something. It's nothing," he trailed...

Author: NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED | Title: THE VAGABOND | 1/6/1943 | See Source »

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