Word: dismal
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...into the loose bib of flesh which an arbitrary heredity has draped around his neck. In the kennels, at Huntington, L. I., of Gerald M. Livingston, his forlorn yapping roused to dreary derision a crow in the near woods. Perhaps the basset hound puppy heard a prophecy in the dismal utterances of the black bird; what, he wondered, did the future hold for him, a prince of basset hounds, by Walhampton Andrew (titles: International Champion, English Champion, American Champion), out of Walhampton Dainty? The puppy yelped and whined, for he did not know...
...fail to get a quiver or two out of the cartoon The Retreat from Moscow. To most readers of the Lampoon this will be the appeal to strike him most strongly. A modest Proposal after the pattern of Swift is very amusing. It is enlivened with sketches portraying the dismal fate of the Harvard Undergraduate if the Proposal is ever taken seriously. A drawing on page 20 reveals some of the difficulties involved in the production of the Decameron. The whole Boccacio household is pressed into service to find some dirt for the use of the head of the family...
...very good hospitality of his own vessel. It would be gratifying if the same praise might be said of the hospitality of his subsequent captors. His deeds of daring rival the tales of days before mud and trenches, and cast a much needed glow of romance on the dismal panorama of a sordid...
...railroad train, where taunting revolutionists are making him expiate his onetime pride and arrogance. Saved by the girl, he jumps off the train in time to see the long line of cars, one of which contains his dearly beloved, crash through a broken bridge into drowned and dismal wreckage...
...returned to poetry, but not with the weak dilettantism of a used-up writer who wished to knot up the last frayed edges of his thought. In his verse† he states more succinctly, more bitterly the angry, scornful, rebellion with which he regarded the dismal riddle of existence. The terse wrinkled lines of his poetry are like those of his small face in their expression of quiet pessimism, of a thoughtful, stoic sorrow. His "Epitaph on a Pessimist'' is a flippant quatrain: I'm Smith of Stoke, aged sixty-odd, I've lived without...