Word: wretchedly
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...fired by Lynch, a partner driven mad by the weight of his famous legal ancestors. The next morning, it is Lynch's turn to perform. In court to argue the case, he opens his mouth, but no words come out, leaving Weston to wonder if the poor wretch is going to make a silent oral argument before the U.S. Court of Appeals...
...plague was in the air, and the death of kings implied an unimaginable catastrophe. Racism and superstition prevailed. Occupations that are now obsolete dot his plays: cooper, wheelwright, alchemist, bellman. His language glitters with marvelous words that have, alas, also become obsolete: porpentine (porcupine); swound (faint); german (akin); caitiff (wretch); borthens (the hair of corpses); grise (a stair); bisson (blind). However immortal, Shakespeare, no less than Aristophanes or Mozart, needs his modern interpreters...
...accident victim lying in the road. Although this idly rich fellow is on his way to a family dinner, he is willing to take the poor victim to the hospital. Unfortunately, no hospital will take the dude, and while Sordi prattles on hysterically about nothing and everything, the wretch expires on the front seat, which he is rather nastily staining with his blood. Finally, Sordi drops him off where he found him. Vittorio Gassman also comes up with a good scene, playing a Roman Catholic cardinal stranded by an automotive failure at a small parish church, where an angry group...
...loves nothing more than to give and receive billets-doux. To kindle ardor in the souls of her readers, Antonia, 44, has compiled Love Letters (Knopf; $8.95), a tender anthology of 135 amorous notes dashed off through the centuries by lovers of distinction. Sample sweet nothings: "You are a wretch, truly perverse, truly stupid, a real Cinderella. You never write to me at all," a peevish Napoleon scrawled to Josephine from Verona. "Your slim gilt soul walks between passion and poetry," wrote Oscar Wilde to his lover Lord Alfred Douglas. Complained Benjamin Franklin to his platonic French friend Mme. Brillon...
...could do, so this position goes, was to be Bogart. The African Queen, showing at the Welles, certainly debunks the theory. His performance in John Huston's film of James Agee's screenplay of C.S. Forrester's novel almost rivals Katherine Hepburn's I overheard an unscrupulous wretch in the dining hall trying to start a rumor that the novel was actually by Stephen Foster, and was originally called Mississippi Queen, and started out with a man dying of Bayou fever, and that Bogart's ship was the Monitor...