Word: floridity
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...particularly impressive Devil, making funny faces, playing mean pranks, raising hell. In the end, however, he loses his wager with the Lord's archangel, for Faust regained a soul by dying at the side of Marguerite with LOVE in his heart. A story not without significance, but florid rather than profound. The excellence of the film lies in its beauty, its brilliant visualization of fantasy...
...aristocratic lakefront and booming South Side are superficial, gaudy pictures; turbulent impressionism. Nine-tenths of the book is conversation; rapid, clear, forceful, but no more racy of the certain day than it is revealing of the certain people. There is much color, but it is plastered on in hurried, florid gobs. Author Cohen, to whom high praise is due for a tremendous task well tried, betrays his inexperience chiefly by distrusting his ability to write with care as well as power. All these shortcomings notwithstanding, U. S. fiction has a new dynasty: the Pardways. Author Cohen is a Mosaic young...
...sombre and yet burning tones, his use, for contrast, of tapestries stiff with gold threads, of smoldering paintings and shawls dipped in scarlet, lit with mannered passion like suspended flame. As an architect his imagination rioted into turrets and cupolas, a certain Moorish richness of proportion, avoiding the florid by a breath and a promise. He made a great deal of money. He increased his regular income by bringing over shiploads of antiques and selling them among his friends. Most of his work was done in Manhattan where, with the help of Charles McKim, he built the Metropolitan and Century...
...Come on over into New York State," said a florid Irishman with gold teeth to a freckle-faced Irishman. They were shaking hands, and at a yank from Gold Teeth, Freckles crossed the border. "Come over to New Jersey," grinned Freckles, returning the yank. "I'll show you a good state!" The scene was 100 feet under the oozy bottom of the Hudson River and the Irishmen were Governors Smith of New York and Moore of New Jersey, "two outstanding Wets in a dry spot." They had on their tops hats and morning coats, for they were met- where...
Bunching at the turn, widening along the fence, looping down past the grandstand they came, entries in last week's revival (in Chicago) of the American Derby, one-time "classic." A florid gentleman in a Panama looked benignly at the scene. He was Colonel E. R. Bradley of Lexington, Ky., owner of a brown horse named Boot to Boot, whose jockey, working his legs like a frog, drew under the wire, a winner by two lengths. The race put $89,000 in Colonel Bradley's pocket, was the fifth derby his stable has taken this year...