Word: bende
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...most pampered and mysterious ladies of the Italian Renaissance took up official residence in Washington last week. With a minimum of fanfare, Leonardo da Vinci's Ginevra dei Bend (see color), acquired from the private collection of Prince Franz Josef II of Liechtenstein for more than $5,000,000 last month, went on display in solitary splendor in the National Gallery's "Lobby B," a small anteroom with a 28-ft. ceiling, limestone walls and a marble floor...
...National Gallery's courtly, erudite Director John Walker, 60, who has spent years negotiating for the painting, the present hoo-ha is simply proportionate to the prize. He has coveted Ginevra dei Bend ever since he was first shown the painting in the prince's collection by the late Bernard Berenson, in 1930. "After I became curator of the National Gallery," Walker recalls, "Berenson would say to me, 'I don't care what else you get as a curator, but before I die, I want you to get the Leonardo...
...assurance that Joyce was not a deliberate mystifier but "an intellectually superior writer unwilling to compromise with subject matter of great complexity," the reader is presumably in shape to cope with the first sentence of Wake: "riverrun, past Eve and Adam's, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodious vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs"-a reference, on one level, to the Liffey, which runs past Adam and Eve's Church and Howth Castle in Dublin, and, on another level, to the beginning of mankind's story...
...Henjyoji has at times successfully used the cradle from standing position. Once again, it's because of his relative shortness. His opponents tend to bend over in order to guard their legs. He has managed to grab both a hanging arm and a leg while standing to fall into the cradle combination...
...hoped that he will, but he may not. The present, after all, is a ghost of less substance than the unmelting snows that mantle his youth. "The snow is real," he writes, imagining some long-ago blizzard, "and as I bend to it and scoop up a handful, 60 years crumble to glittering frost-dust between my fingers...