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Word: shade (lookup in dictionary) (lookup stats)
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...root, slowly growing into the sturdiness of a coconut or a mango or a kola-nut tree. The tree is the certificate that proves this child existed in this village. It is stability in a region that has been rent by war for more than a decade. In its shade, no fighting, no hurt should come...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: A Mother-And-Child Reunion | 5/14/2001 | See Source »

With this technology, the potency of a small changes to a painting from the extension of a single black line to the creation of a lighter shade of blue reveal Mondrian’s careful consideration of every element of fhis compositions...

Author: By Nicole B. Usher, CRIMSON STAFF WRITER | Title: Mondrian at the Fogg | 5/4/2001 | See Source »

...that was ever a valid criticism, it has been more than remedied on Odyssey Number Five, which takes the listener on a journey from the intimate to the exhibitionistic and just about every shade in between. It is an archetypal rock album, influenced by Jeff Buckley’s beauty of line and Nirvana’s bass, but finding its own distinct and powerful voice. The best rock songs must have staying power—witness the persistent popularity of anthems by U2 or REM. I have a feeling Powderfinger’s songs will soon join the list...

Author: By Andrew D. Goulet, Andrew R. Iliff, and Daniel M. Raper, CRIMSON STAFF WRITERS | Title: New Albums | 5/4/2001 | See Source »

...this sense, Ablow’s work most resembles that of Giorgio Morandi in the 1940s and 1950s. Morandi, called the father of the contemporary still life, relentlessly painted the same enamel bottles and china bowls for decades, using a palette that never wandered more than a shade away from gray. Like Morandi, Ablow is concerned with exploiting a pictorial brand of truth, discovering something universal in the shape of insipid junk...

Author: By Maria-helene V. Wagenberg, CONTRIBUTING WRITER | Title: Meditations on Space: Joseph Ablow | 4/27/2001 | See Source »

...down behind the large concrete slab decorating the Leverett House lawn, cover himself with blue, turquoise and tan blankets and fall asleep. Usually I would only half-notice him, except for the cold nights when I’d feel a stab of regret as I pulled my shade down to my radiator. In the mornings, while I was checking my e-mail or combing my hair, he would wake up between 8 and 9 a.m., stumble around a bit, urinate, pick up his bag and walk away. The man became a part of my daily routine...

Author: By Arianne R. Cohen, CRIMSON STAFF WRITER | Title: Dying Alone | 4/25/2001 | See Source »

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