Word: mellowes
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...porches to landscaped lawns. Sunday, it was Cleveland, as coolly respectable as Florida, and unexpectedly flamboyant; Monday, the lush, velvety valleys, red barns and wind-stroked corn fields of Wisconsin; Tuesday, the tall towers of Minneapolis, rising sharply from the prairie and gleaming in the warm sun; old, mellow St. Paul with its distinguished piles of Victorian brick and stone on Summit Avenue, where Scott Fitzgerald lived...
...primitive quality. The beautiful little Oregon hamlets with their graceful maples, vivid green lawns, handsome courthouses, the little kids crying or laughing unconcernedly as the candidate drones on, old men sitting on benches with expressionless faces, sucking on their pipes, housewives carrying their groceries-all of this is a mellow throwback, reminiscent as a Currier and Ives print, to the pre-electronic-age campaigns...
France, lately in bondage to nine-year-old Poetess Minou Drouet, is currently applauding Belgium's Anne Bodart for a charming book of fables, most of which she wrote when she was 14. She had to wait until she reached a mellow 17 before her work was published in the U.S. (see below). Due in the U.S. early next year is Beau Clown by France's Berthe Grinault, 16, a "strange, curious book" about a professor, a psychopathic killer and a clown. The publisher's publicity agent describes Berthe as "a beautiful child of the earth, both...
...final work, Rameau's third Concert en trio, Brown fittingly used a wooden cross flute actually owned by Johann Quantz, the greatest Baroque flute virtuoso, and lent by the Boston Fine Arts Museum from its Mason Collection of Instruments. Its tone is uniquely mellow and velvety, and well points up the fact that in the arts there is no progress, but only change. No gain is made without an equal loss...
Music could mellow the caustic Mencken strain. He once moved Angoff by saying, "Schubert knew God, he knew that God, too, was afraid, that God, too, trembled and was in doubt and got angry and regretted and yearned in vain, like you and me and all of us." Though he spouted misogynisms, Mencken was deeply in love with his wife, Sara Haardt, who lived only five years after their 1930 marriage. When she was dying he told a friend, "Women are always waiting . . . women are always waiting for-birth, for kisses, for love, for growing-up, for smiles, for death...