Word: purplish
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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Ruhe alone had six agents abroad (he had 20 before the war). They were looking for anything they could get at a reasonable price. Most of all they wanted to buy the okapi, a purplish-brown, short-necked relative of the giraffe, worth $10,000 to $15,000, the reddish, striped, forest antelope, known as the bongo, sometimes priced as high as $20,000. There is only one of each now in this country both in New York's Bronx Zoo. The Indian rhinoceros* and giant panda were in the same diamond and sable class. Less valuable were Siberian...
...Bali's flourishing prewar artists' colony: Belgian Adrien Jean Le Mayeur, 66, and Swiss Theo Meier, 38. They told no harrowing stories of hunger sieges, frozen feet or welted backs. Painter Le Mayeur had lived through the war in a tile-floored seaside villa overhung with purplish-pink bougainvillea blossoms. His studio was a garden perfumed by the powerful scent of the frangipani tree. His model was his youthful wife, Polok, once one of Bali's best-known native dancers. When the war cut off his supply of oils and canvas, Le Mayeur improvised a new medium...
...tricks with light. The sky appears leaden, like a snowy sky in Europe, or is crossed by great bands of black, red, and grey. Moist surfaces-such as sweat patches on a horse or the wet concrete of a swimming pool at an irrigation settlement-are a weird glowing purplish color. The sun is entirely obscured, or shows like a wan full moon. Dead trees, a tragic number, loom through the hot murk in a variety of fantastic shapes as though they died in agony. . . . Where the dust clears a little, a few dead sheep may be seen...
...Shrill, scratch-penned Eleanor Jewett of Chicago's America-First Tribune put up a bald landscape of rolling hills and lowering sky, seen through a purplish haze of late-afternoon dusk: The Day Ends by Charles Kilgore...
...that was more disquieting when it smiled than when it was sober. Over the years it had slowly changed. In Stalin's youth his face had been delicately handsome, but revolution, war, power and, above all, will had abraded it into somber strength. The hair, which had been purplish black like most Georgians', and grew far forward on the low forehead, had turned grey. The eyes, which had once peered out from velvety depths of unfathomable distrust ("Lenin trusts Stalin," old Bolsheviks used to say, "and Stalin trusts nobody"), had acquired an expression almost of authoritative benevolence...