Word: bents
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...that have adorned, in reproduction, millions of book-plates, art calendars, folios, and frontispieces. There is Whistler's restrained and noble picture of his mother, the old lady folded in silence like the fall of her quiet dress, hearing voices fade, footsteps pass; Millet's "Angelus," the bent peasants in their luminous field; the perfumed floridity of Nicholas Poussin's "Orpheus and Eurydice," Jacques Louis David's capable "Portrait of Pius VII"; "Renaul and Armide" one of the classic posturings of François Boucher, the courtier who painted ceilings with the grace of miniatures...
Incredible feet, swollen knees, a body like a fat egg, a bent neck, tufted cranium, misty eyes very high and close together and a heavy spatulate appendage, blotched and yellow, more like a piece of foot gear than a nose-that was balaeniceps rex, the shoebill stork, who arrived in Manhattan last week, cabined in the officers' quarters of his steamer, from Lake No, near Khartoum, Upper Egypt. He was one of five specimens that collectors have captured in 35 years. Two of his kin died some years ago in England. Two stalk dejectedly about the zoo at Cairo...
...affected still the long spiky bristle of the mandarin, was worried. When he heard how the naked chin of Peter gleamed blue and shameless in his new palace, Petersburg, upon the Neva, he sent him a fine rug as one who would say: In mystery the twig is bent, and a patch of hair divides one nation from another. Let peace be between us, my brother, although your shears are impudent...
Tunney stood up straight, Dempsey came in weaving, bobbing, prowling. He bent his head a little and Tunney's lefts whizzed over. Three of them missed in succession. Incomparably better looking in the ring than Tunney, who was merely handsome, Dempsey leaped forward; he was inside Tunney's guard, a panther striking. Then an amazing thing happened. Tunney held his terrible arms. The referee parted their shoulders and Tunney, with a right and left to the head, backed Dempsey against the ropes, pounded his face, made him shelter himself with wrapping elbows. The gong rang...
...corps of policemen. He climbed through the ropes-unshaven, hard-muscled, surprisingly thin-and crossed to Tunney's corner. "How are you, boy?" he said. The iron voice announced the weights: "Jack Dempsey, who has defended his title for the last six years. . . ." Loud booing. You bent over to light a cigaret and when you looked up they were fighting...