Sentence examples for endlessly flowing from inspiring English sources

Long noted for his Mozart, Mattei brought to bear not only an endlessly flowing line but also the expressive contortions of a natural comedian.

Lucinda Childs's 1979 "Dance" is a vision of how we would all move in dance paradise: an endlessly flowing, buoyant sweep of simple steps that sends dancers tirelessly weaving across the stage to the ever recharging rhythms of Philip Glass's music, as Sol LeWitt's film of the same work provides a ghostly echo of the live performance.

Villa VPRO, which became the defining project of MVRDV's early career, is a densely constructed, five-story box — a "hungry box," as one critic called it — with an endlessly flowing and adaptable interior that renders in spatial form the company's anarchic spirit.

Thus a wellspring of activity is depicted to be endlessly flowing out of the center.

Roasted duck followed it and all was delicious, including the endlessly flowing pisco sours, a Peruvian pastime.

Another great showman and well-respected designer, Tommy Hilfiger, has always put on an elaborate spectacle where no expense is spared...from endlessly flowing champagne to live performances by N.E.R.D. to exactly 100 models sent down the runway in celebration of his 20th anniversary.

For Ms Eberstadt, the link between robust families and resilient faith is reminiscent of bonds forming a double helix: dynamic, self-reinforcing and flowing endlessly in both directions.

MANY of us imagine Sardinia as a Versace ad come to life: European playboys lounging on megayachts and Champagne flowing endlessly at clubs named, without irony, Billionaire.

Mr. Ratmansky sustains the ambiguity throughout a flowing, endlessly inventive first section that occasionally recalls Jerome Robbins's "In the Night" in its presentation of different forms of love and relationships.

Mr. Barenboim also played both programs entirely from memory, an impressive technical feat as well as one that leaves a stunning visual impression of the performer seated alone before an unadorned piano with notes flowing endlessly from his fingers.

The remaining material falls more into a genre of symphonic pop that still awaits a name: numbers not structured like songs but flowing endlessly, like a river far from its source and near to the sea, not stories or statements but yearning mood pieces, all cut from nearly indistinguishable cloth.