Word: conscious
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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Chicago intelligentsia have long been aware of Mrs. Hutchins' psychological drawings, compositions of nude female figures drawn "with a blank mind," with no conscious effort, which she calls "dialectic" drawings.* At various parties last winter she showed them to friends, with a magic lantern and a typewritten manuscript of stage directions and remarks, while her friend Professor Mortimer Adler of her husband's psychology department attempted to clear things up by reciting explanatory poems in free verse. A typical Adler...
Such criticism must rest upon a failure to understand Mr. Smith's peculiar position in the east and especially in Massachusetts. In the Democrats of Massachusetts, his name inspires implicit confidence and blind discipleship; where he leads they follow. Mr. Smith is conscious that any prolonged appeal for Governor Roosevelt would fall on half-interested cars; what Massachusetts Democrats want to hear is the tale of '28, the tale of Republican bigotry, and hypocrisy, the tale of their unswerving loyalty. To recall to their minds his moral ascendancy, Mr. Smith has small need of polished periods, of intricate logic...
...Coming from an English university in which I have lived for over 20 years I have had no feeling of strangeness here. Privileged to reside in Eliot House, I am conscious of a genuine university atmosphere. The institution of Houses, I understand, is new; but they seem to me to be settling down rapidly, and, while retaining their own individuality, they will develop Oxford traditions...
...story of his life runs along with the speed of a prizefight from the University of Denver to Yale to the Harvard Law School to Oxford with the major interest ever on the boxing ring. One is always conscious of the somewhat loveable big-boy who is the author. The whole book is virile and thoroughly masculine, even when the author describes an evening spent with a group of "aesthetes" at Christ Church College where he war greeted with a lily. And always American, he does not escape that particularly American kind of snobism about titles. When he boasts that...
...superior to that of health. To it I owe my perfect hours." Saying that to lecture an opium addict is like telling Tristan to kill Isolde, he comes nearest to an apology when he writes: "Living is a horizontal fall. But for that fixative, a life completely and continually conscious of its speed would become intolerable. It allows the man condemned to death to sleep. . . . Opium gave me this fixative. Without opium all projects, marriages, travels, seem to me as foolish as if some one falling from a window wished to get into touch with the people in the rooms...