Word: tormenting
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...just set off stood the aviator immobile as a statue, while the landscape, leaping out of shadow at the summons of his fantastic torch, assumed around him an aspect of exaggerated horror; water-rotted trees at the river's edge stretched their arms in stiff attitudes of torment, like ghouls petrified in the death-agony; the motionless grain at his feet seemed to have been cemented, by the mist and the strange light, into an acre of solid stone. As he peered under his hand, trying in vain to see beyond the circle his flare had chiseled in the concave...
...college student has been untouched by the radio. But within the next two weeks sales in Cambridge are bound to double, for the radio has displaced cuffs, shoestrings, hatbands, handkerchiefs, and fingernails as the source of information. Three hours of torment and wracking brains are changed to three hours of pleasure and comfortable writing at dictation. The examined becomes the amanuensis, while roommates or friends supply a polished and complete examination via the air route. The ingenious student of Strasbourg little realizes that he has transformed the only trying period of collegiate existence into a few pleasant hours of scribbling...
Athanael, the monk (Baritone Danise) pretended, too. He pretended that the beauty of Thais had moved him to win her soul for Christ whom alone he loved, and that, in the winning, he found his love for Christ was really love for Thais. He died in torment of the flesh, while she, dying also, dreamed only of the mercy of the pale Christ, her last lover. He knew all the time that she was the Baroness Von Popper and in no more danger of hell fire than the people in the boxes, who knew this also, for she let them...
...phantoms jostle; winds squeal like demented fiddles; ghosts squeak like dismal flutes; and lonely in the company of lovers who have sinned for love and have been damned for their sin to remember forever the joy of love's delight, Paolo and Francesca embrace in pangs and torment. But Tschaikowsky believed that he had lived his best years; his hand faltered. The music twists and tumbles, witless in anguish. Hell is peopled with platitudes. The cruel critic was right. The piece marks the first faltering of Tschaikowsky's genius, and for this reason, it is not often played...
...love story draws to a close, but no longer does he seek surcease in death and oblivion. Originally we saw him in his lodgings, alone with his tragedy, going through his paces, leering at himself in a circle of mirrors, cackling in hideous laughter, unable longer to endure his torment, he stabs himself...