Word: witness
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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Myra became a beautiful young woman, short, plump, like a dove in repose, in action very erect, vital, challenging. Her spirit and swift wit were of a sort that old John Driscoll could understand, "racy, and none too squeamish." He was probably proud of her the snowy night she left his house, penniless, after two years of intense, secret waiting, to marry the man whom she loved and he did not. He was certainly proud of her when, after willing his house to pale-handed nuns, founding a women's refuge" in Chicago and providing that Myra could always...
...they wantonly and with an often unintelligent iconoclasm destroy the temples of other muses. Such men, obviously, cannot stride the twin steeds of Pegasus and Propriety. Nor is this an ability remote from greatness. Bulls in so many china shons, they are often futile in conversation and vulgar in wit...
...good in themselves, as representatives of that lump which American intelligence and native wit must eventually leaven, together they have the power of brute force, coupled with complete dulness--and that force--though like the carnivorous dinosaur, its one time proponent, it eventually die, can, like the name carnivorous dinosaur, cause a lot of trouble. One hopes then, and with all sincerity that Tunney will like a good Marine, defend his country against mental eclipse by refraining from establishing a precedent which could well mean the beginning of the Ivory...
Observation and admiration have not been lacking. Symphony Hall has welcomed Oxford and Cambridge debaters in regular annual sequence. Audiences have listened in amused complaisance, marveling at the wit and sparkle of the English speakers, and then staunchly voted for the solid legal points of our opposition. It is not patriotism, it is rather a deep-seated distrust of what is clever...
That question enters and reenters the mind of whoever watches (from behind a pillar) the roaring revolutions, evolutions, devolutions of Mr. Skinner's cane; the extravagant movements of his beaver. The play really need never be played. Melodrama has died its natural death. And even French melodrama with occasional wit is brief in its amusement...