Word: winking
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...sees the spectacle of "burning cities . . . marching armies ... a funeral procession towards a red horizon." Of the four plays that opened in Manhattan last week, Playwright Lawson (Processional, Success Story) wrote two. He received congratulations only on his industry. The opening of The Pure in Heart amounted to a wink, for it closed after seven performances. Whatever Playwright Lawson had in mind when he wrote Gentlewoman is lost, like his heroine, in words, beautiful but superfluous. Its most interesting character is a lewd wench (Claudia Morgan) who seduces the hero in the second act and gives the heroine a tart...
...evasions of the spirit, if not of the letter of the law. Now we are moving into a period of administration when that which is law must be made certain and the letter and the spirit must be fulfilled. We can not tolerate actions which are clearly monopolistic, which wink at unfair trade practices, which fail to give to labor free choice of their representatives...
...Finger is probably a nice enough old gentleman, and no one suspects him of not meaning well. We can sympathize with him for wanting to tell people how many books he has read and how nice they all were, and in sympathy we can forgive much. We can wink at his little knack of splitting infinitives and misusing words; we can smile tolerantly when he tells us that Edmund Burke was a Democrat and "A Vindication of Natural Society" the most sincere expression of his political philosophy; we can, with an effort, keep our gorge down when he says...
HOMECOMING-Floyd Dell-Farrar & Rinehart ($3). Generations push each other too fast to allow youth to grow old gracefully or without hurting somebody's feelings. Some 20 years ago-a mere wink of time -Floyd Dell was a promising young writer, one of the literary Lochinvars who came out of the West to startle Chicago and Greenwich Village into a romantic revival. When he wrote Moon-Calf (1920), an autobiographical novel, thousands of adolescent readers found him excitingly like themselves. Sometime practicer of "free love," an editor of the old Masses, a pillar of the Provincetown Players, Floyd Dell...
...might dangle his feet into the water with no one to blame him for it. Often he had sat there in the Spring and watched the sun play Lotto with the chubby red tower across the river, and later he had watched the channel lights on the bridges wink at themselves. Tonight, though, he had not been alone; a cur had laughed at his feet in the water, and whipped a tail in his eye, and besides, the green tower interfered with the sun's business. It was summer, and the Vagabond sighed...