Word: squatting
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...artist almost as soon as he could walk. He was apprenticed to the late great Seiho Takeuchi who made him study the lives and habits of wild fowl for 16 years before he might set brush to silk panel. For several hours a day he was made to squat in the marshes, by the duck ponds, silently meditating (a practice he still pursues). When Seiho Takeuchi decided that Hori knew enough of the plumage, the habits, the anatomy, the temperament of ducks he was allowed to begin painting on silk panels with a camel's hair brush, not with...
...Mayer's report: "Powers is a psychopathic personality ... of the hypo-pituitary type-squat, pig-eyed, paunchy, with weakened sexual powers. He is not insane, but he has been a borderline case all his life. Powers is capable of knowing right from wrong...
...what he looked like. As the season progressed French thrill-seekers from the mainland† decided that Caviglioli the Bandit was a myth. Last week Caviglioli the Bandit appeared where the tourists were thickest, at the new Corsican resort of Guagno les Bains. Caviglioli turned out to be a squat, middle-aged fellow with a weather-beaten face, two pistols in his belt and two nephews, similarly armed, at his elbows. They appeared first at the Grand Hotel. The proprietor made no resistance but sent a frightened chambermaid scurrying from room to room to warn the guests to lock their...
...setting up an ad for one of Butte's big department stores. This man had begun his task when it occurred to him that perhaps the store in question employed individual makeup and type. He asked the boss of the ad alley about it. The boss, a squat and blue-jowled individual, spat on the floor, observed "Jeest, why don't yuh rubber da rag?'' Dr. Durston, on business somewhere in the background, overheard the remark, thought it apt. Next day every machine, desk, locker and press in the Standard office carried the words "Rubber...
...goggle-eyed. Such fine and pungent talk was to be had almost any evening in the inn at Marden Fee, and it is the chorus of talk, not the incidental pastoral melodrama you will remember from Author Bullett's book. The story opens in prehistoric England, in the "squat" (hut-settlement) of Koor. Koor, hitherto invincible patriarch, is aging, and the young hunters are beginning to mutter to each other. Soon the inevitable happens. The tale suddenly skips to 1750; Koor's squat is now the drowsy village of Marden Fee, its people outwardly a placid yokelry...