Word: fainted
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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Earnest Heminwgay contributes the last of a series of stories to this issue of Scribners, improving, as before, the general tone of the copy. The story, "Give Us a Prescription, Doctor," is laid in a hospital in the Southwest. From amidst a faint susurrus of hospital noises, broken English, and the squawling of a patient's radio, ideas emerge with a morbid and startling clarity; much as one may question Mr. Hemingway's philosophy, he cannot help admiring the technical ability and power which enables him to present it so vigorously and subtly. In the present instance, however, the effect...
Still swings the murderer, bent of knees In a slightly strained repose, Nor feels the faint hand of the breeze: He now with Solomon all things knows: That, lastly, breath is to a man But to want and fret a span...
...intently and desperate. He proceeds, with irregular stops, to a class. His legs are shot through with stabbing pains, and twist them as he may, he cannot soothe them. The lecture speaks more and more slowly, his words finally arriving in a heaving rhythm which leaves the Vagabond with faint shudders. The class closes, and he wanders forth, counting the brown boards in the hall. He enters the local cinema, where refractory shapes sway in a concatenation of primordial emotions which is the very essence of ennui. Lights go by; imbeciles speak. The streets are black, and suddenly...
Deploring, polling, and circulating petitions have been the immemorial prerogatives of the collegiate journalist. To damn with faint praise a now more fashionable than to deplore; to poll has become both cumbrous and prosaic; but to sent out a petition, preferably one raising some great and starting issue, can still be relied upon to achieve the sweet thrill of fame. And so the Brown Herald, oppressed by the taedium vitae, thought it might be a good thing to count heads on one of our more perplexing problems. Accordingly the Brown student body, and all owners of college printing presses, were...
Assuming a slightly choleric tone with a faint but perceptible reddening of the gills, John Bull has bellowed a loud protest at the Soviet Union for its jailing of four British subjects on charges of sabotage. Conservatives and reactionaries in the Oemmons gleefully welcomed the pretext to indulge in verbal Bolshevik-baiting, dwelling fervidly on the wicked OGPU and its modern inquisition tendencies. Threats to cancel lrade and diplomatic relations with Russia are noised about. Meanwhile Russia has announced her intention to go through with the trial...