Word: passionately
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...vaulting hopes. Amused, the lady kisses her seraph-faced admirer, whose innocence in the throes of the cosmic "urge is droll to behold. Thus compromised, the trousered one needs must slay his contemporaneous sweetheart who lives next door, in order to be free to follow the grand passion inspired by the lady of the Rolls-Royce. In plenty of time and after many an antic he discovers that the Rolls-Royce lady is unworthy and returns peacefully to the girl next door. Harry Langdon's lonely innocence is most excellently done...
Furze, meanwhile, marries a waitress whose full bosom heaves with eagerness to scrub the floors he walks on. She, Rose, shares his passion for the practical, his desire to toil and spin and then plough fields to get up a sweat. With her he is happy...
...section on Goodness, the author does not fall to include the familiar distribe on the passion in America for proyphylactic cleanliness. It is not extraordinary that our land of prohibitions both legal and moral, provides tantalizing stimulus for any sensitive observer, be he yokel or diplomat, foreigner or native wit. In this portion of the book alone does the author play the game he has chosen for though fairry adroit satire pinch-hits for the more rugged sincerity which any critical work presupposes he nevertheless concludes his observations in more commendable fashion than he approached his unfamiliar subject...
...poem is a long one, containing some 4600 lines of that admirably moulded blank verse which one expects of him. As in "Merlin" and "Lancelot", the chief emphasis is put upon the passionate and destructive love that burns his characters to ashes; and he has made every effort to make that love as real to his twentieth century readers as it was to Tristram and Isolt themselves. He has somewhat altered the story to do so. For example, the love drink is not one mentioned; Tristram and Isolt are consumed by a passion which it needs no magical agency...
...Johnny Cup o' Tea," "Leather Breeches," "Dutch Molly," "Shoestring Pratt." Now they are plain "our-Mr.-Zerkle," "our-Mr.-Bragg." Along the road they used to meet, instead of small-time vaudeville folk, really queer dicks like David Wilbur, Rhode Island's gentle, weatherwise, forest wildman, whose passion was scratching signs on pumpkins; Dan Pratt, the sawbuck philosopher, whiskered butt of a score of colleges; Ann Lee and her twelve disciples who rumor said were self-made eunuchs; and Johnny Appleseed, wilderness pilgrim, with his body in a coffee sack, his head in a tin pot, who took...