Word: motionlessness
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...turbulent subjects. Every conversation the physician has had with his Imperial patient, writes Dr. Sassard, "gave me further reason to admire and respect this Sovereign, who is so different from those who surround him and from his own people, and who is so superior to them. ... In his motionless face only his eyes seem alive-brilliant, elongated, extremely expressive eyes. They bespeak boredom as well as polite indifference, cold irony, or even anger. The courtiers know these different expressions well and retire suddenly when the monarch's glance becomes indifferent, then hard. On the other hand, especially when...
...turning their gun turrets with massive precision to the angle U. S. soldiers call "eyes right." After God Save the King had been played so softly that it sounded like a prayer, the cry rose "Three cheers for His Majesty!" As they were given the royal right hand remained motionless in a long, long appreciative salute, George V's way of thanking his subjects...
...came in the sixth. Bland, graceful, incorrigibly calm, Louis stalked Carnera across the ring, drove a right to his jaw. Carnera fell, dragged himself up, crashed down again, with another right to the jaw. Louis, an amazingly motionless figure, outlined against the ring lights, leaned on the ropes for a moment. When Carnera was on his feet again, Louis moved in, landed a crashing left. As Carnera got up for the third time, he had just presence of mind enough left to turn toward the referee before Louis had time to hit him again. Referee Arthur Donovan stepped between...
...Museum's longtime (1881-1908) President Morris Ketchum Jesup, the big scale drawing of Baluchi-therium (TIME, April 8). Although in her informal surroundings upstairs Whitey had postured freely for the Press, she now retired as if in stage fright to one end of her glass cage, sat motionless and goggling behind a fern, presented to squadrons of school children only a vague profile and a view of her naked-looking rear...
...candle in the tower winked out. All was stillness. The friar turned toward the building and stood motionless. Presently a latch clicked, and a woman hurried across the moonlit award and slipped into his arms. They kissed, and then stood for a long time whispering. At intervals, in the pale light, their faces fused. His the eager artist's, burning with creation; her's with a strange detachment--one day to be immortalized in pigment. At last they moved apart and then stole quickly down the garden path to a door in the old wall. The man opened...