Word: snugly
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...first, yet not remain so. The curving lips of the interior overhangs make them fairly safe for children. There is visual privacy, though not the privacy that doors afford. The kitchen is to be built into one of the supporting pillars beneath. Radiant heating will keep the house snug. Storage space exists in abundance between the interior and exterior shells of the building...
...tiny foreign car (a B.M.W. Isetta with its only door across the front), turned the car over to an attendant, came back several hours later to find the man-who had no idea how to put it in reverse-still sitting in the car, its front end snug against the parking-lot wall...
...usually strides on stage in pitch blackness, stations himself by the microphone before the spotlight bursts on him-light blue, lavender or "upbeat pink," depending on the mood he is trying to convey. For his female fans the famed Belafonte costume-a tailored ($27) Indian cotton shirt partially open, snug black slacks, a seaman's belt buckled by two large interlocking curtain rings-combines the dashing elegance of a Valentino cape with the muscled fascination of a Brando T shirt. The handsomely chiseled head is tipped slightly back, the eyes nearly closed. He is always backed by two guitars...
...snug, overstuffed parlor of early 19th century optimism, Poe played Hamlet to his own ghost, and it is sometimes difficult to separate the poet from the poltergeist who tipped over the stuffed birds, broke the bric-a-brac and put the ladies into a flutter. It is the thesis of Veteran Biographer Frances Winwar (Coleridge, the Wordsworths, Byron, Shelley, Keats) that Poe's "ghoul-haunted" imagination has contemporary validity. For all its outmoded idiom (castles, princesses, etc.) Poe's death-obsessed verse speaks true today. In this admirable biography, Author Winwar lets a hundred well-informed witnesses speak...
...view of Mayo-born Novelist George Moore, was "a fatal disease" from which "it is the plain duty of every Irishman to disassociate himself." To the waspish eye of Novelist Honor Tracy, herself part Irish, Ireland is less a disease than a delusion. Its inhabitants live as snug and moist as a colony of clams in "a little bubble of [their] own imagining," feeding their dreams on "the piccolo, morte that lurks in the flagon...