Word: blushful
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...wants to say about me, but he hasn't the guts to come right out and say them himself. Even a man with the morals of a baboon and the guts of a butterfly could not do anything sneakier or more cowardly than that: it would bring a blush to the cheeks of Uriah Heep...
...College fraternities, which have been fading in influence ever since World War II's returning G.I.s failed to blush when not rushed, are newly under fire. At Amherst College, for example, they are the subject of a tough report by a committee of deans, faculty members and alumni. Amherst fraternities, says the report, "have become an anachronism, the possibilities for their reform have been exhausted, and they now stand directly in the way of exciting new possibilities." It urges a shift to more broadly based residential societies to "wean students into more mature forms of independent expression...
...addition to championing segregation, the two Jackson papers practice a boosterism that would make a Bab bitt blush. The Clarion-Ledger regularly runs a Page One color photo of a local maiden or matron gushing something like "It is patio time again." The Daily News runs a front-page cartoon of a donkey named Hinny who brays verse on behalf of some local cause: "It's the first night for football in the high schools of the state/ And ol' Hinny hopes each one'll win its game-won't that be great...
Like a Bee. Somewhere between the last gush of the romantics and the first blush of the moderns, emerged Artur Rubinstein. Like a browser at a rummage sale, he sampled the new and the old and took the best from each. From the new he learned respect for the notes; from the old, devotion to what goes on between the notes. "I approached all those pianists like a bee," he says. "I owe them quite a lot, but I dismissed a lot in them too. If there's anything original about me, it is a composite of all of them...
Greene handles most of his scenes with astonding naivete. As the narrator is being beaten and questioned by the secret police, the vegetarian wife, her hair in curlers, slowly descends the stairs uttering brusque commands in abysmal French. The secret police, rifles in hand, mumble and blush and leave abashed. After reading half the book, one learns that all situations have neutral endings--nothing is settled, no crisis is reached or even begun. Any interest the bizarre characters or ludicrous events might have created ebbs, leaving nothing in its wake...