Word: imp
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: all
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
Static, the imp that squeals in a radio, has long had a habitat in the polished cabinets of Victrolas. People found that in radio his mewing could be partly controlled, but in talking machines, even expensive ones, his intrusion was unavoidable. Of course it was not really static-the blaring, nasal voice they heard through the playing of a record-but a sound composed of the hum of the operating motor and the vibrations of the mica diaphragm of the soundbox. Driven to desperate shifts by radio competition, the Victor Talking Machine Co. last year set about eliminating this privy...
...Father in a tunic of blue crepe-de-chine, throned among his squadrons on the ceiling of Mrs. Aldwinkle's best bedroom, does not matter, for Aldous Huxley has made these people, not in the image of the Omnipotent, but in his own. It is the unquiet imp of his own self-consciousness that squirms in each. He capitalizes self-consciousness as a literary idea. Like Jehovah, and better than any man since, he understands the implication of that famed formula, I am. His writing is a gallery of many mirrors, variously awry, each reflecting the pale and sharply smiling...
Greenwich. Toiling up hills, jolting down, amateur guests of the Greenwich Country Club, Conn., qualified behind Reginald M. Lewis, one of golf's imps. He was at home among all the blind shots Greenwich presents, literally and in the figure 71. The match players dwindled away, including Imp Lewis, to two juveniles-W. H. Taft Jr., of Dartmouth College and Montclair, N. J., and J. J. Mapes, of Harvard University and Easthampton, L. I. Recalling how those Greenwich hills had seen him larrupped by Dexter Cummings in the Intercollegiate Final (TIME, July 7) Taft larrupped Mapes. Women. The long...
...play jogs along, one catches oneself thinking of Chaucer and wondering why. Perhaps it is the breathless jostle of bright costume and eager garrulity, the sheer impetuousness of movement as such, the merrily malicious person of our playwright-imp teasing here, pricking there, now poking a goodly joke if the ribs of conscience, now playing hide-and-seek with a smug morality, always exposing to laughter the foibles, the vanities, the littlenessesses of our too human nature...
...woman who has knitted two pairs of socks and three helmets for soldiers feels overwhelming need for self-expression and goes out and buys hyacinth blue wool, out of which she fabricates a sweater to wear over her yellow silk. She does not so much express herself as the imp of restlessness that has her momentarily at his mercy...