Word: reflections
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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Today those ultra-conservative news organs, the London and the New York Times, sneak, though with reluctance, of Vladimir Ilvich Ulyanov Lenin as a man whom History will dub "The Great." But biographers would reflect: A child, he was one of the six children of a starved schoolmaster. A man, he lived for years expatriate and struggling outside the country he loved. A Power, he died paralyzed and speechless...
Like popular songs, good business women appear often in the U. S. There are so many of these women, smart and well-to-do, making money as brokers, bankers, milliners, writers, politicians, decorators, that, like the dapper melodies that reflect the trends of the times, they have become a national tradition. But there are not many women whose earned income exceeds $10,000 a year. Here and there one finds a woman capitalist like Mrs. Edward Harriman, who last week received the honorary degree of Master of Letters from New York University. Mrs. Harriman is a discerning patron...
...would ponder. They are puzzled by his laughing acceptance of derogatory criticism, recall his wife's remark: "You may say what you like about his music, but if you don't praise his handwriting he will be cross with you." Many of these people curl the lip, reflect with Hugo Riesmann: "His last works only too clearly reveal his determination to make a sensation at all costs...
...through 20 stories of women's rooms, sewing-rooms, lecture-rooms, schoolrooms, offices in the tower; stairs will go down to robing-rooms, Sunday school rooms, choir-rooms, locker-rooms, kitchens in the basement. There will be bolwing alleys and a basketball court - details which and do not reflect Dr. Fosdick, but are a counterpart to his prime interest in preaching. In the top of the tower, with four new bells, will be the carillon, gift of John D. Rockefeller Jr., which last year disturbed the people of Park Avenue...
...Whitmanian, who, bred in Kansas, has gone around the world on 25? and studied "tramping" for years, the sea and its gulls, its tidal slime, fog, dunes and shiny-footed waves, is a source of life in strong, recurrent phases. The first two dozen pieces of this volume evidently reflect a summer spent on Cape Cod with or near a loved woman, whose presence is more felt than seen. Besides these spans, which are briny and refreshing as a dory full of mackerel, are some painful subjective pieces, some not too happy reflections in the classical manner and several lyric...