The sun was low in the west, and the breeze soft and languorous
that came up from the south, charged with the seductive odor of the sea.
The atmosphere beneath is languorous
, and is so tinged with azure that what artists call the middle distance partakes also of that hue, while the horizon beyond is of the deepest ultramarine.
It entered into them, dreamy and languorous
, weakening the fibres of resolution, suffusing the face of morality, or of judgment, with haze and purple mist.
Equally indolent were the motions of the Mosula youth as he drew his skiff beneath an overhanging limb of a great tree that leaned down to implant a farewell kiss upon the bosom of the departing water, caressing with green fronds the soft breast of its languorous
I closed my eyes in languorous
ecstasy and waited, waited with beating heart.
He saw her standing there, amid the languorous
shadows of August, pale with feeling, wide-eyed, trembling.
"You know you believe it all," said Lord Henry, looking at him with his dreamy languorous
Recalling the visceral power of Shellac and the heady atmospherics of Cocteau Twins, Aughra's strength lies in their brilliant use of contrasting moods and textures - one minute languorous
, the next snarling and carnivorous.
I would make him tell it to me again and again in the summers, when we came to Israel for languorous
months, or the autumns he and my grandmother would spend in New York, where we had lived since I was a toddler.
Toronto-based singer/songwriter Ayo Leilani, who performs as Witch Prophet, opens her debut album The Golden Octave with a refrain that's part question, part challenge: "What if I told you/just who I was/would you feel more fearful/know what I'm capable of?" The line begins embedded within the album's haunting opening song "Loop," where Leilani's languorous
voice layers on top of itself, sighing the words out in gentle entreaty until it repeats into the next song, "Time Traveler." Here, over a snaking, jazzy loop, the words come emphatically, duelling with guest singer Lido Pimienta in a way that's both hypnotic and commanding.
Nova, who's exceptional 'dramedic' gifts were grossly underserved in the well-meaning but languorous
'1st Ko si 3rd,' brings the right mix of sardonic wit and brimming pathos to her scenes-and we hope to see more of her on the big screen.
Chekhov was an immensely funny writer, and his uniquely Russian sense of humor is arguably critical to justifying the odd cadences of his plots, which alternate between the languorous
and the busy, between aimless circularity and melodrama.