Word: tartness
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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Last month Chicago critics did similar cartwheels after Cantelli guest-conducted the Chicago Symphony. Wrote the Tribune's tart-tongued Claudia Cassidy: "Just what it is, the spark that sets some artists blazing, nobody knows. But Guido Cantelli has it." Burbled the Herald-American: "He is sensational without resorting to sensationalism . . . original without being extreme . . . Boards of directors: file this young man for future reference." London critics, when they heard him conduct the brilliant London Philharmonia last year, wrote to the same effect...
...words were a rallying cry to all the Attleeites. At a meeting of parliamentary front benchers Attlee himself cast aside the cloak of neutrality he has tried up to now to wear as party leader. In tart, hot temper, he outlined an ultimatum to the Bevanites-disband the party-within-a-party and stop calling names in public. Nye Bevan, his eyes round with affected innocence, faced the challenge with the wounded mien of a child accused of palming the queen in a game of Old Maid. With hands spread wide, he offered to throw his group meetings open...
...valley, up to the age of 15, but only for the sake of sustenance. Then his wealthy family hired an illiterate peasant girl named Marie Chevalier as their cook. A native genius, Marie could whip up sauces creamy as clouds and subtle as sunsets; she could pluck a plum tart from the oven at the split second of proper crispness or mash a marron to the delicacy of morning dew. "She civilized me," sighs Curnonsky, repeating an old quip: "She turned my needs into pleasures...
...Jimson is the only one who has ever been a real match for Sara: at times, in his roaring picaresque progress downhill, he seems an even bigger figure. The really last word, however, is an echo of Sara-as Pritchett calls her, this "genial, boozing, humbugging and thieving old tart, lost in the raucous mythology of her memories and affections...
Died. Viscount Astor, 73, onetime (1939-44) Lord Mayor of Plymouth, newspaper executive (the London Observer); of asthma; in Cliveden. A New York-born great-great-grandson of John Jacob Astor, he became a British subject when his father was naturalized in 1899, later married tart-tongued Nancy Witcher Langhorne of Greenwood, Va., who became the first woman to sit in the House of Commons (1919-45). Said he: "When I married Nancy, I hitched my wagon to a star; when she got into the House of Commons, I found I had hitched my wagon to a sort...