Word: stale
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Despite Menuhin's disregard for audiences, the Bath and Gstaad festivals are more popular than ever. "People are ready for such a novel approach," he says. "Besides, it's the only thing that prevents musicians like myself from getting stale." Menuhin is brimming with new projects, most notably London's Yehudi Menuhin School for musically gifted children, which he founded last year "to preserve our species from extinction." Last week the itch to move along was upon him again. Gazing up at the snow-veined mountains, he mused: "Pretty soon we will be traveling again . . . linking, bridging...
Then hurtling home by jet to face up to the ultimate question: "Was America as flat, stale and bleak as I remembered?" Heaven be praised, the answer is at least a qualified...
...told us we had reached the Widener Chamber, one of three large junctions in the system. We spent some time examining control panels and gauges before we discovered that the noise was due to an enormous fan unit. The Widener Chamber, we learned, is also a ventilation center, where stale air is pumped out of the Tunnel and fresh air sucked down from the surface. (Some of the intake air is compressed to operate control units in the heating system.) The exhaust outlet of the Widener Chamber gave us, at least, a chance to locate ourselves with reference...
...they are today, and his survival as a writer during the bleak years is a mystery to his friends and even to him. But he was determined from the start not to be diverted from fulltime writing by the mere need to eat. For a while he lived on stale bread and buttermilk in a $3 room on Hudson Street. Yaddo, the writers' colony run by Mrs. Elizabeth Ames at Saratoga Springs, N.Y., became a home away from home. He stayed there off and on for several years, even through one winter when other writers had fled their literary...
...played-out playboy, Ronet is supremely Malleable. He looks like a Gallic Tony Curtis and pours out the heeltap of his charm like stale champagne. Malle himself must be credited with clever cutting and a well-told tale, but unfortunately he too often vaults from fiction to philosophy, and he has no head for heights. No doubt he is right, if tiresomely unoriginal, when he says that in an anxious age big-city dwellers are too often out of touch with each other and with the fundamental realities of their lives. But the spectator's eyes will probably glaze...