Word: flutteres
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...been dissipated alone by the whispered name of the Theatre Guild. Such disinfecting quality as the name might once have possessed has been balanced by hard-headed business methods, which have made the Theatre Guild of New York succeed where other artistically minded organizations have failed. And the flutter of disapproval, though less pronounced than that which greeted "The Birth of a Nation" in Boston and "All God's Chillun Got Wings" in New York, piques attention in Cambridge even outside the Liberal Club...
...refreshing in these days, when the silver screen is resplendent with "Golden Goddesses", "Birds of Paradise" and the like who flutter in sparkling salons and produce impressions one very much like another, to see a picture in which there are no elaborately bejewelled sets, or sumptuously bedecked figures. Such a picture is the latest Metropolitan picture "A Girl in Every Port...
Seventeen of the canvases relate the visual majesty of 17 Toledo industries. In them rude men ladle out molten metal, neat girls direct bottle-filling machinery, smoke stacks smoke, vast iron wheels whir, newspapers flutter on the city, crowds walk in the rain before the shops, fantastic masses of machinery move. Two additional canvases show Toledo of today?neat, smoking, moving; Toledo of the future?a high, angled sky line rivaling that of Manhattan. The represented industries...
...Silvers, his partner, killed himself. When Marceline came back to the Hippodrome in 1915 after a trip abroad, his crowds were already beginning to prefer the silent flutter of faces on a screen to the gayeties of a nimble droll. A mocking shadow ran after him for the next few years, whispering an insult in his ear every time the crowds at Ringling's sat silent when he twisted an eyebrow at them. By 1920, he used to pick up dollars by coming in at business men's dinners and trying to make the solemn faces crack...
...been closed in the ebony trunk, but had, since the death of Boswell, reposed in a Scottish garret where the air was as damp as oatmeal. When Lord Talbot stooped to gather this sheaf of merry memories, the bundle had crumbled in his hand into a little flutter of yellowish flakes. Only 30 pages could be gathered again. These, a gay jumble of antique anecdotes, had been joined and backed with gauze so that they might last perhaps forever. The manuscript of An Account of Corsica had been preserved intact, as had letters from Boswell to his wife...