Word: spirit
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...spirit and strength of the British people will speed their recovery. . . . We have come out of the war confident in our own power...
Even without a thorough grounding in the classical Chinese theatre, one feels that "Lute Song" has preserved the essential spirit of a lyrical drama with a simple, fairy tale-like atmosphere unfamiliar to must American theatre goers. The unadorned plot--a story similar to Chancer's "Patient Griselda"--remains intact through the translation and condensation into one-third the original length, as do elements of Confucian ethics and what appears to be satire of Buddhist ritual...
...Grenviles . . .!" Throughout England's wild West Country, in the 17th Century, no family could hold a candle to the wild Grenviles. "There was some quality in the race, some white undaunted spirit bred in their bones . . . surging through their blood." When roisterous Sir Richard, most dashing of all the Grenviles, met bitter-sweet Mistress Honor Harris over a dinner of roast swan and burgundy, their seismic passion rocked the country. "Oh wild betrothal, startling and swift . . .!" Gossips recounted how he had ". , . shamed me in a room in Plymouth . . . carried me [away] by force-[that] I ... lived as his mistress...
Once this piece, with the notable playing of Piatigorsky, has been disposed of, little good can be said of the evening. The program began with Bach's beautiful Brandenburg Concerto No. 2, and the flutist started the evening off in its continuing spirit by gurgling flatly through his first twenty-five bars. This was especially unfortunate as he was the only one of the four solo voices that could be heard over the roar of 34 violins and eight counter-basses...
...host that soared about me one grey morning of wartime. These memories, which are my life-for we possess nothing certainly except the past-were always with me. . . . These memories are the memorials and pledges of the vital hours of a lifetime. These hours of afflatus in the human spirit, the springs of art, are, in their mystery, akin to the epochs of history, when a race which for centuries has lived content, unknown, behind its own frontiers, digging, eating, sleeping, begetting, doing what was requisite for survival and nothing else, will, for a generation or two, stupefy the world...