Word: glowingly
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...dancer poses with pelvis thrust forward, one dancer poses with pelvis thrust forward, one hand positioned smugly behind his head. His photograph and then a larger-than-life silhouettte is thrown on the scrim. More and bigger photographs follow as other dancers join in, all lit by a bronze glow, enshrining them as perfect Renaissance nudes...
...order he saw passing away--not only before his very eyes, but before he had been allowed to enjoy it. His bitterness knew no limits, and dominated his personal relationships and gave the underlying animus to his writing. In books, as a rule, he caught the dying glow of the upper classes in the softening mirror of decent, fair-minded characters. Brideshead Revisited, his greatest novel, is elegiac, but not vindictive. Outside of fiction, though, Waugh was quick to place the blame where he thought it belonged...
...shiver under your feet, it can only carry half a dozen riders at a time. The Woolworth Building leans crazily, canted forward like a gothic shed in the wind. Its terra cotta façade has become a wedding cake of writhing mullions and bulging cornices; the windows glow green, and inside in plain view there are people yelling at file clerks, chasing secretaries and munching what are probably pastrami sandwiches. On the roof, like a lizard on a rock, there is a goofy dragon; its tail is dollar bills, its hide is plated with nickels for scales...
...children's homes that the order runs round the world, but it still moves visitors to wonderment. Muggeridge claims a modern sort of miracle for it. Some photos shot in the infirmary's hopelessly dim light, he says, turned out to be bathed in an inexplicably soft glow. Calcutta Journalist Desmond Doig, a self-described skeptic and author of a forthcoming book on Mother Teresa, reports a more personal miracle. Instead of finding the place repugnant, he became so suffused with its compassion that he began to nurse the patients himself. "Our work," explains Mother Teresa, "brings people...
...thwack of my helmet against the seat confirms Newton's third law of motion. The air is piercingly fresh, and the desert mountains glow golden in the morning sun. But soon the drive will become a spastic, three-hour Cinerama focused on 100 miles of lifeless mesquite moonscape-beginning in Laughlin and running across sand washes, over mountains, around canyons and back. "Howdy doody!" Evans yells, skipping the yellow truck over a 5-ft. ravine. "I can't stay away. Racing off-road is like narcotics to a dope addict...