Word: radiantly
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...recognized as the Warrior Priest and the principal figure in representations of a rite of human sacrifice that held great significance for the Moche. Adorned in gold and with glistening bells, beads and ornaments that shivered at the slightest movement, he must have impressed his subjects as more blindingly radiant than the sun overhead...
...tenor seizes the title role like Domingo, whose vocal potency and dramatic intensity have redefined the part. As Desdemona, Carol Vaness caresses Verdi's most beautiful music with a pure, radiant soprano, while in the pit, Russian conductor Valery Gergiev, making his Met debut, leads the score with raw power and passion. The live radio broadcast is April 2; be prepared to be taken by storm...
...meet again, they all comment that nothing and none of them has changed. There is a bitter pang as Truffaut undercuts their statement Everything has changed; Jules no longer smokes and has taken to entomology, Jim has shorn his moustache and seems older, Catherine wears glasses and appears less radiant. Jules informs Jim that things are not going well, that he has not been able to hold Catherine, and that Catherine has run away several times. Jules is determined not to lose Catherine, and so he encourages Jim's interest in her. Even if she becomes Jim's lover...
...welcome sign of nature. She is radiant in her servitude; her toil gives her joy because it allows her to see in closeup how the world grows. She is enthralled to slice open a papaya, or watch an ant carry its backpack of crumbs. And with the same fascination, but etched in loss for her own child, the mother watches Mui. At night, as a breeze whispers through the sheer canopy on Mui's bed, the girl says the word mother in her sleep. The mother of the house, eavesdropping on this intimacy, dries her own tears on the canopy...
...most of all he is busy being himself: God. Fyodor Shurpin's Morning of Our Motherland, 1946-48, is a portrait of Stalin in the literal form of the Pantocrator, contemplating a new world he has brought into being. He wears a white coat of radiant purity and is bathed in the light of an early spring morning. Behind him stretch the green pastures of a transfigured Russia, Poussin (as it were) with tractors and electricity pylons, and shy plumes of smoke rising to greet the socialist dawn from far-off factories. As Dante wrote, in God's will...