Word: limpingly
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...Misanthrope is as deliciously vicious a lampoon of the manners and meanness of Louis XIV's court as it was 300 years ago, and it is performed with panache. But T. S. Eliot's 1950 spiritual parable, The Cocktail Party, seems stilted and stale in a limp production...
...successes is absolutely uncontroversial. September's mood is a reflection of the relief expressed by the Detroit News after the Tigers' last pennant: "Again this fall, when a mass neurosis settled on us and the whole town seemed gripped by a home front battle fatigue in which energies went limp, tempers shortened and all reason fled, the athletes came through. We needed a miracle, and this the Tigers?bless them?provided...
...character speaks to the guest: "When a man sees that there is no place in the world that he loves, he deceives himself into thinking he loves his town." The guest is soon disillusioned. War and time have done their disfiguring work. The town is poor. Its sickly citizens limp about on wooden legs, use grenade-smashed faces as beggars' blackmail. Gone are the old fireball discussions of Zionism, socialism, and who will be the next rabbi...
...progress of the play is really the gradual zombification of Morley as physical debility betokens his psychic decay. He develops a limp, then cannot stand up at all as his arms and legs go rigid. Sitting mutely in a chair as if immobilized by a stroke, he seems to live only with his eyes, which roll in a fine frenzy as his latest financial coups are related to him by the omnipresent Spaatz. The time inevitably comes to get divorced for tax purposes, and then Morley kills himself-for tax purposes. In a final scene of immense sadness and gravity...
...race day, 94,800 fans-the biggest sports crowd in Florida history-jammed into the Speedway, and what they saw left them limp. The yellow caution light went on for accidents eleven times. The lead changed hands no fewer than 22 times-until, just ten miles from the end, South Carolina's Cale Yarborough, 28, edged into the lead in his 1968 Mercury. He crossed the finish line with an average speed of 143.251 m.p.h. And there was Bill France, handing Yarborough the trophy that went with his winner's check...