Word: weeping
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...defense reeked with sentimentality and patriotism. Lawyer Hogan made the women of the jury weep. Doheny on the witness stand cried easily and often. Frequent were the references to Fall's bad health. Lawyer Thompson tried to describe "a red haired young man" (Doheny) and "a black haired young fellow" (Fall) meeting on the "deserts of the Southwest" when Justice Hitz cut in: "The color of Mr. Doheny's hair is not in evidence. Please follow the evidence." Lawyer Hogan made an impassioned plea for the jury to send Fall "back to the sunshine of New Mexico." Remarked...
...courtroom walked Mme. Rolland last week, the hideous burns on her face half-hidden by a bandage. "You thought that you would blind me!" she cried pointing an accusing finger at the "acid bandits" in the dock. "Thank God, I have still one eye left with which to weep-and to identify...
...will be thousands of princes. There is only one Beethoven." About laws of harmony he said: "The rules forbid this succession of chords; very well, I allow it." At weepers over his music he laughed: "The fools! . . . They are not artists. Artists are made of fire; they do not weep." He considered God his only equal. He lived precariously, striding along the Nietzschean tightrope. For all his self-sufficiency Beethoven could "never see a pretty face without being smitten." But a love-affair, he boasted, never lasted longer than seven months. He loved three cousins, his aristocratic pupils, Tesi...
...race-the U.S. bartender. Many a man among them will tell heart-breaking tales of better days when he served drinks at the Waldorf in Manhattan, at Boston's Parker House or at Coffee Dan's in San Francisco. Their skill confirms their stories and strong men weep gently into their old-fashioned whiskey cocktails to think such souls are passing...
...from her firm grasp, but there is always that inevitability of fate, the stumbling block of so many good intentions. The excellent reputation that it succeeded in winning for itself by uncovering the wicked snares of Henry Mencken several years ago has apparently been forgotten. But it does not weep alone. Book sellers and publishers whose wares it was the custom of the society to call to the attention of the public will have to seek other means of attaining the hallowed pages of the Evening Transcript. And what is worse, the ready spice of polite dinner conversations will...