Word: tracings
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: all
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
Auto dealers were beginning to wear a trace of a smile as new car inventories hit a twelve-month low of 936,000 cars. By the end of April, dealers expect to slash this figure to 900,000. Now that dealers were beginning to empty their showrooms and back lots, passenger-car production climbed 20% to the highest weekly level of the year-112,551 new cars. The automakers have scheduled a 7% increase in April production to 415,000 cars...
...poacher, a big game hunter, a game warden, and a devout herpetologist. Piecing all these lives of a non-pukka sahib together, Biographer Alan Wykes, a London magazine editor, has drawn a fascinating profile of a man with all the imperious instincts of an aristocrat and not an inhibiting trace of the code of a gentleman. Snake Man neatly blends action and memory, talk and adventure, snake lore and Ionides lore...
...Harold's Teeth. A New Yorker editor for the past 25 years, William Maxwell, 52, writes with more than a trace of the rueful resignation and wry disenchantment of much New Yorker fiction. His massive restraint sometimes brings his narrative to a dead halt; his quietness of tone sometimes verges on the inaudible. He can reduce the bone-wearying comic horrors of travel to a sentence as when Harold Rhodes, burdened with two lead-weight suitcases, just makes a train: "The station agent took their tickets gravely from between Harold's teeth." He has not created profound characters...
...slicked hair carefully parted, his rimless glasses gleaming, approaches his job with a confidence that almost borders on irreverence, which is the way he conducted himself in his years at Ford. The size of the job does not awe him. "I hate to say this." he murmurs with a trace of shyness. "After all, I came from a compa ny of pretty good size. And when you get up to this size, much greater size doesn't mean very much...
...novel is not merely a sentimental binge. Paris, Venice and the Riviera shimmer before the reader's eye like mirages evoked by Remarque's lovingly descriptive touch. And he has more than a trace of the gift that Cyril Connolly once noted in Hemingway of "saturating his books with the memory of physical pleasure, with sunshine and salt water, with food, wine and making love, and with the remorse which is the shadow of that sun." The trouble is that Remarque's sun is too often in eclipse...