A street-lamp some little distance away gave enough light through the murk
of the rain that was again falling in torrents to make it entirely plain that "no one was there." In truth there was nothing but the sheer blank wall of the tower.
As they crossed the bridge, the clear steeples of the many churches looked as if they had advanced out of the murk
that usually enshrouded them, and come much nearer.
We will flash first to Worcester, cross the Hudson on the high bridge at Poughkeepsie, swing southwest through a dozen coal towns to the outskirts of Philadelphia, leap across the Susquehanna, zigzag up and down the Alleghenies into the murk
of Pittsburg, cross the Ohio at Wheeling, glance past Columbus and Indianapolis, over the Wabash at Terre Haute, into St.
All I saw moving was a heron; he was flying low, and disappeared in the murk
. Before I had gone half a mile, I was up with the building the roof of which I had seen from the river.
The smoke of Oakland filled the western sky with haze and murk
, while beyond, across the bay, they could see the first winking lights of San Francisco.
It was not that morning that I saw for the first time Therese of the whispering lips and downcast eyes slipping out to an early mass from the house of iniquity into the early winter murk
of the city of perdition, in a world steeped in sin.
Old hall and church welcome in the cosmopolitan To shine limelight acrossMersey's murk
, For working-class grit won a starring role.
Or, conversely, the grid invites you to step with deceptive surety as far as you like into the dank, fertile murk
of the paintings, into their half-dreamscape with its slurred hues of mud, sky, and blood, into the menagerie of stark-shadowed rooms, with someone like the character in 100 Anos (100 Years), 2000, holding your exploding head on a string.
Other scientists, including the late Murk
Bottema of Ball Aerospace and Communications Group in Boulder, Colo., devised a similar fix for three of Hubble's four other instruments.
In the midst of all this murk
and unpleasantness there's a real light at the end of the tunnel for Robbie Ross when his ex-wife (who, you'll notice, eats like a bird) gets back in touch and offers to take him away from all this.
As light and fragrant as "Clemente" is, however, I would have wished it lighter and more aromatic, because I came looking for what I thought I had detected in Clemente's work over the years: a confirmation of the Mediterranean way of doing things, some visible evidence that, in the bookish, prudish, guilt-ridden, cryptogothic murk
of late-twentieth-century high culture, an artist might live a cos mopolitan life in the sunshine of lovely places and make an art that speaks confidently to the virtues of that life--to its complexity, mobility, and exteriority.
drifting your boat Into the murk
of the world awhile,