Word: maces
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: during 1950-1959
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...thing, the new Digest piece (condensed from McCall's) quotes the "official" line: "The wife should have an orgasm. If this does not happen easily, it is up to any self-respecting husband to master the technique that will make it happen." Yet, soothes Dr. David R. Mace, the how-to-do-it books place "an exaggerated emphasis on so-called 'sexual technique.'" He reassures readers that the sex manuals are no substitute for old-fashioned passion. His own summary in the Digest's digest: "So long as the emotional feelings between the couple are right...
...stage-judges of the High Court of Justice in ermine-trimmed scarlet; Lords of Court of Appeal in black knee breeches and gold-braided gowns; Lord Goddard, 80 years old, Lord Chief Justice, wearing an extra S-shaped band of gold braid. Trainbearers, bearers of the standard and the mace, each entered and took an appointed place. Lord Kilmuir, the Lord High Chancellor, draped amid flowing robes, impassive under a full-bottomed wig, came last...
...proud sporting family; he was indeed a proud son of the house of Toulouse, determined to carry his family name into the only field his deformities of mind and body left open to him. To the end he used his stylus like a lance and his mahlstick like a mace...
...Diamond of the early Middle Ages? Was it the age of chivalry or the age of the shiv? Were the "parfit gentil knights" of the Round Table just a passel of paleo-Stalinist thugs? Henry Treece, English poet, critic and historical novelist (The Dark Island), wields a mean historic mace and it lands squarely on the romantic Arthurian legend of Sir Thomas Malory's Morte d'Arthur. "Malory was wrong," says Novelist Treece flatly. He admits that his own hard-boiled debunking may be no less wrong, but Treece at least tunes his legend to the barbaric realities...
...among the grandest in the human range, and as they marshal and maneuver on the stage, the audience feels caught and carried in the icy passion of a superhuman chess game in which the stakes are life or death for more than Joan. Compared of course to the virile mace-work of George Bernard Shaw in his Saint Joan, it is sometimes oversubtle rapier play in the Gallic fashion that scores points but does not really make a wound. The actors, however, under brilliant coaching by Director Joseph Anthony, use their weapons with such skill and fury that the beholder...