Word: dimming
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Whether or not Goodwin's amateur psychiatry is clinically correct, he has dared probe a dim corner of Washington history, a suppressed repository of whispered stories and yellowing memos written in shocked disbelief, describing Johnson's stalking the back corridors of the White House and fulminating about the enemies he saw surrounding him. Nor is such speculation confined to Johnson. In the final throes of Watergate, the tortured Richard Nixon could not focus on meetings, wandered the White House halls at night and sank to his knees in prayer with Secretary of State Henry Kissinger, behavior that suggested to some...
...path to sanctity, is Powers' story. He tells it in prose that is like his hero: unspectacular but full of impressive resources. Powers commands a variety of comic voices, from the wild, imaginary conversations with the Archbishop, or Arch, as Joe calls him, to the non sequiturs of sweet, dim Father Felix, the monk who helps Joe out on weekends when he is not chuckling over TV shows. The scenes in which Joe falls woefully short of his ideal of priestly fellowship are wicked social comedy. For days after his curate's arrival, Joe goes through an ordeal of embarrassed...
Even with its charming "postage-stamp" hole, aced by Gene Sarazen at the age of 71, Troon is more distant, dim, vague, gray, dreamy and melancholy, much closer to the mind's impression of moors and mires. It resembles a battleground that is really a testing ground, bumpy and full of bad breaks. Like youth, the longest shots start to go a little awry, until, like hope, they disappear entirely into the darkness of the day. "Unrecoverable," say the caddies without irony, over and over. "Unrecoverable." On the moonlit night, the golf-course hotel might be Baskerville Hall. From...
Nonetheless, some restaurants have reopened and are well attended. In the early evening, lovers meet again in the shadows of the fabled temple Wat Phnom. Then, as the curfew approaches and the lights begin to dim to half power, fewer and fewer bikes and pedicabs pass one another, quietly, like phantoms in the night. Still ill at ease, not quite believing that their suffering may be coming to an end, Phnom Penh's citizens head home quickly and, as always, silently. Without a political settlement, there is still reason to fear...
...have reached the Applegate of my years. Metaphorically, my bat speed has slowed, my reflexes have begun to dim and more than a stride has been lost going down the line to first. That may help explain why I follow with such fascination and dread the fortunes of the last four big league ballplayers who are older than I am. By daring to stop time for at least one more summer, these final four have become my personal antidotes to middle age, even as I chart their downward slide in the arithmetic of the box scores and the formulaic prose...