Word: laughter
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...poem "Verdun" reads in part: I know a place in Picardy Where the bois is rich with laughter With dead men's bones and live men's groans And bird sounds that come after! . . . O, the birds, O, the birds, Singing in the Bois de La Folie...
...powwows have been neglected by a race of modern rustics who, when their crops are bad or the pigs perish, appeal to the U. S. government. City people, who supposed that the last U. S. beldame had long since ridden up the wind and that the rattle of wild laughter in the autumn air had never been heard since Salem, were surprised to learn of the York witches. They regarded the episode as a weird survival of savage superstition into an era of radios, mechanical birds and spiritualism, of which also there was controversial talk last week...
...gleefully of the monster turkey somebody had sent for Thanksgiving. How she kept dishing it up in various guises for a week. She laughed till her false teeth-if you ever beheld 'em!-fell down. Every time I think of convents, it renews my faith in human laughter. FATHER WILL WHALEN Old Jesuit Mission, Orrtanna, Pa. Father Whalen recently wrote a short story about a mediocre actress, popular in small towns. It was labeled "Twinkle, Little Star" and appeared in the New York Daily News (tabloid).-ED. Marching Yorkers
...superlative dialog has laid. Caprice is such a play. "You are the most abandoned woman I have ever known," says Albert to lisa, and she replies, "Abandoned? No one has ever abandoned me!" It is a college quip which serves less as a cause than an excuse for laughter. Caprice is the comedy of an artist, not a farceur, though it contains moments of mediocre farce. The author is a Viennese, Geza Sil-Vara, and it is his first play (adapted by Director Moeller) to be presented in the U. S. Alfred Lunt and Lynn Fontanne stroke the velvet...
Life and Life. No picture could be half so dismal as that of the office of a humorous magazine where the staff feels that it isn't considered funny enough. Hollow with chagrin, wild with despair, sounded the laughter in the studios of Life as the old staff prepared their swan-song for the presses. A shadow seemed to lie all through that final number, with its reprint of favorite drawings from the spent twelvemonth...