Word: blur
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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...most cultivated men of the day, such as the financier Pierre Crozat (whose collection of old-master drawings was said to have completed young Watteau's aesthetic education) and the Flemish artist Nicolas Vleughels. But their memoirs of Watteau tend to be short and sometimes contradictory; they blur when the traits of his possibly rather feckless, prickly character present themselves. He seems to have been solitary and misanthropic, though with flashes of antic gaiety: "A good friend but a difficult one," the dealer Edme-François Gersaint unhelpfully put it. Naturally one would like to know more; probably...
...inventive melody, has devised a bluesy score that is sere and predictable. Lloyd Webber is no longer content simply to write musicals; now he must mount spectacles for theatergoers who will accept something big in place of something good. The performers, led by Stephanie Lawrence and a break-dancing blur named Jeffrey Daniel, are energetic troupers whose relentless "high spirits serve to underline the inspiration, and ultimate destination, of Starlight Express: this is Vegas on ball bearings...
...eight novels and eight previous collections of short fiction, South African Author Nadine Gordimer, 60, has emerged as the most influential home-grown critic of her country's repressive racial policies. But that reputation tends to blur some of the finer distinctions of her art. She is not really a polemicist. The portraits of her native land shade softly into irony and indirection; an overriding injustice must be deduced from small, vividly realized details. Her most important contribution to contemporary letters is not a moral message but the brilliant and memorable ways she has found to deliver...
...would smash his fist into the nearest wall or bloodily shatter the glass he was holding. "Nearly all the time," he wrote after one bender, "I am incompetent for work, or for thinking of work, or of anything except crawling around in a whisky-logged blur...
...down unit. Some unknown soldier leaped into the cab and steered the smoldering vehicle into the sea, where it exploded. Soaking wet on the beach, Fuller remembers a cold so bitter he barely could move his fingers. The weeks of hedgerow fighting that followed have turned into a sickening blur: "You're out of control. You shoot at anything. Your eyes hurt. Your fingers hurt. You're driven by panic. We never looked at the faces of the dead, just at their feet?black boots for Germans, brown for G.I.s...