Word: daggers
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...Sinaitic codices (earliest Greek Biblical manuscripts). It was wrapped in linen rags in an earthen pot, much of it in perfect condition, and is now on exhibition at University College, London. It dates from the Fourth Century and differs in several ways from the orthodox text. An iron dagger, considered the oldest iron implement known (about 4,000 B. C.) and three human skulls, provisionally dated 50,000 B. C. by Professor Sir W. M. Flinders Petrie, great Egyptologist, were among the objects found...
...tale of murder and psychoanalysis, from the pen of Mr. Ben Hecht, is neither augmented nor impaired by the eventual disentanglement of its complexities. It is the quaint, initial assassination itself, the atmosphere of brooding horror, the haunted eyes of De Medici, that fling the reader of The Florentine Dagger (TIME, Sept. 3) into a bewildered Nirvana of goose flesh and insomnia. It is the mental gymnastics of Sherlock Holmes or the chemical fumblings of Craig Kennedy that delight, rather than their eventual (and predictable) triumphs...
...brilliant. His novels suffer from a lack of taste which would undoubtedly be ironed out in a second writing. When he started to write a Rabelaisian fantasy in Fantazius Mallare he was only adolescent in his pornography and was consequently affected. His last book, a detective story, The Florentine Dagger, he claims to have written in ten hours. It's not a bad yarn. I am told, however, that, dictating as rapidly as one is able, it would scarcely be physically possible to accomplish this feat. I once dictated ten thousand words of a story in a week...
...Nations assembles, at Geneva. A plot for kidnapping the delegates one by one is conceived by a group of assorted super-criminals. The reason for their dislike of the League is obscure, in as much as it is depicted as a majestically futile assemblage. The story brandishes first the dagger of mystery and then the scalpel of satire. Both are equally keen, and the result is a complete conquest of the reader...
...little goatlegged god with so much pep"; "The poet who sent me a song written on asbestos", and "This is not dancing--it's osteopathy", received the laughs they merited. But when at the close of the second act the outraged wife turned on the "other woman" with a dagger, and is only diverted from her highly original purpose by the "higher claim" of the latter, we wondered whether we had not blundered into a performance of "East Lynne" by mistake. The "higher claim" died in the third act (we knew it would), but not before the wayward hubby...