Word: sullenness
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...mocking, now doubting, always carry their own special lyricism: "Where would I go, if I could go, who would I be, if I could be, what would I say, if I had a voice, who says this, saying it's me?" And perhaps to understand Beckett's sullen craft and art fully, it is best to recall that age during which all human voices almost automatically speak poetry-childhood. Then, too, the voice is a plaything, a comforter in the dark. In spite of his tottering old men, Beckett is more the toddler; he is the child...
...thin crowd waiting on the steaming concrete apron of Havana's Josè Marti Airport, consisting mostly of diplomats from Communist embassies, and the handshake from his only ally in the Western Hemisphere, Cuba's Fidel Castro, was sullen. There were no decorations, no honor guard, no military band. And not until half an hour after Kosygin's arrival did Radio Havana get around to mentioning the visit. Even then, it gave only a brief announcement barely longer than another item praising workers of the Balcan pasteurization plant for delivering their quota of yoghurt...
...rice and ammunition to the front lines. Once there, they help dig trenches and fortify bunkers, nurse and evacuate the wounded, bury the dead. They operate radios and typewriters, handle the blizzard of paper work required by the meticulous V.C. bureaucracy. Allied troops have recently captured several of the sullen, sloe-eyed Victoria Charlenes...
...Gaulle and officially ignored by the U.S. Government, which it seeks to indict, the "International War Crimes Tribunal" of British Philosopher Bertrand Russell finally convened in Stockholm last week. In the ultramodern Folkets Hus (People's House) amphitheater, Jean-Paul Sartre, long a Communist crony, called together a sullen séance of left-wing conjurors who had reached their verdict long before the trial started. Had not Russell already said, after all, that the U.S. was clearly guilty of war crimes? Nevertheless, Sartre started off the session-Russell was too frail to come-with some typically existentialist flummery...
Never one to pass up a publicity play, Linda allowed her daughter to don bikini bottoms and pasties with dangling disks for a picture spread in Men, Italy's equivalent of Playboy. Romina, a slightly sullen girl who combines traces of baby fat with the dark good looks of her father, reacted like a real trouper; when the makeup man had difficulty applying the pasties, she said: "Hurry up, will you? I'm late for a cocktail party." In another instance, Linda rejected all the picture poses proposed by the German magazine Der Stern, finally...