Word: gazing
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...With the first sense of uneasiness that her dead had brought to her she shifted her load so that it would no longer gaze downward and started forward again. But with an almost animate persistence the body moved with each stride, and gradually the round, blank silhouette again eclipsed the miniature skies through which she waded. Now her anger rose, and she splashed heavily through the water, shattering and dispersing its reflections. . . . The air about her broke into a shrill ominous whine, and a black cloud of mosquitoes enveloped her, settling like dust on head, shoulders, and legs. Involuntarily...
SIRS: WOMEN ARE GLAD TO BE WITHOUT POLITICAL EXPERIENCE WHEN THEY GAZE UPON MALE SPECIMENS STOP I SAW THE SENATE IN SESSION YESTERDAY STOP I KNOW...
...Louisine Waldron Elder mar ried Henry Osborne Havemeyer (Ameri can Sugar Refining Co.) and started to collect pictures in earnest. A few years later, she could walk into her private museum, gaze upon Veronese, del Sarto, Filippo Lippi, Rembrandt, de Hoogh, Hals, Rubens, Cranach, El Greco, Goya, Millet, Monet, Manet, Puvis de Chavannes, Re noir, Pissarro, Corot, Poussin, Ingres, Cezanne, Mary Cassatt and Degas. If the mood was not for pictures, there were sundry other objets d'art - marbles by Donatello, Cyprian glass, Italian faience, Japanese lacquers, Hispano-Moresque plaques, and a collection of weird Degas excursions into clay...
...rather disagreeable way of reacting to dramas and pictures that are meant to be frightening. They laugh. Their laughter, of course, is not an expression of humor but simply of nervousness, a way of reminding themselves that it's all make-believe. When an insane murderer fixes his gaze on Chester Conklin's twitching face, they laugh; when a hairy hand comes out of a wall and yanks a beautiful girl into a secret passage, they laugh; they laugh at abduction, poisoning, ghosts. That the squeals of expected, shivery laughter greeted this adaptation of one of Owen Davis...
...again. Most profound artists are introverts, seekers of their own devious mysteries. In the mirror Rembrandt studied his greenish, fur-lined cloak, his quietly folded hands. But ever and again he returned to probe his own sad eyes, perhaps hypnotized himself as people do who gaze in mirrors. He saw a man who was not intoxicated exclusively with his own painting, but who loved the work of other men and, indeed, bought so much of it that he was fast approaching bankruptcy. A great deal of this embracing, sacrificial sympathy is visible in the self-portrait. A year after...