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Sitting in the bow of the boat, with his eyes fixed upon the woman who was nursing the Dane, was Stannard the Terrible!
Sitting in the bow of the boat, with his eyes fixed upon the woman who was nursing the Dane, was Stannard the Terrible!
Sitting in the bow of the boat, with his eyes fixed upon the woman who was nursing the Dane, was Stannard the Terrible!
(American, 1882 - 1945)

Sitting in the bow of the boat, with his eyes fixed upon the woman who was nursing the Dane, was Stannard the Terrible!

Oil on canvas
1914
32 × 40 in. (81.3 × 101.6 cm)
SUPP2000.1425
Jill Schlimme Tallman
Death of Orlando Orlando fixed his eyes on the hilt of his sword as on a crucifix, and appeared like a creature seraphical and transfigured, and bowing his head, he breathed out his pure soul
Death of Orlando Orlando fixed his eyes on the hilt of his sword as on a crucifix, and appeared like a creature seraphical and transfigured, and bowing his head, he breathed out his pure soul
N.C. Wyeth
1924
Genghis Khan's eyes were fixed upon the dark scarred face of the young man in front of him. Little could be hidden from those eyes, and suddenly the young man knew that he stood revealed. The inscrutable eyes gave no sign, but at last Genghis Khan beckoned to the girl, and she came and stood beside him.
Genghis Khan's eyes were fixed upon the dark scarred face of the young man in front of him. Little could be hidden from those eyes, and suddenly the young man knew that he stood revealed. The inscrutable eyes gave no sign, but at last Genghis Khan beckoned to the girl, and she came and stood beside him.
N.C. Wyeth
1932
Back and forth across it we went, twisting, straining, holding our strength, each striving to break the grip of the other's fingers on his wrist. I felt his breath upon my face, saw his cold eyes like blue fire burning me.
Back and forth across it we went, twisting, straining, holding our strength, each striving to break the grip of the other's fingers on his wrist. I felt his breath upon my face, saw his cold eyes like blue fire burning me.
N.C. Wyeth
ca. 1914
The tall, patient Dane--the kind, the trusting Dane--waiting bravely for the treacherous blow with the tin cup on his head.
The tall, patient Dane--the kind, the trusting Dane--waiting bravely for the treacherous blow with the tin cup on his head.
N.C. Wyeth
1907
His queer shabby clothes, his big stooping frame, his sad black eyes, absent almost to vacancy.
His queer shabby clothes, his big stooping frame, his sad black eyes, absent almost to vacancy.
N.C. Wyeth
1910
Deep in hollow sockets his hot eyes burned, red with fever. He sat his horse like an old man, haggard and bent.
Deep in hollow sockets his hot eyes burned, red with fever. He sat his horse like an old man, haggard and bent.
N.C. Wyeth
1912
Image Not Available for In ten seconds his gun was leveled in their gaping faces. "Back!" he yelled, his blue eyes black like a maniac's; "fall back!"
In ten seconds his gun was leveled in their gaping faces. "Back!" he yelled, his blue eyes black like a maniac's; "fall back!"
N.C. Wyeth
1917
This dangerous wild thing was undecided whether to leap in or back out. Eye to eye boy and wolf stared at each other for one terrible moment.
This dangerous wild thing was undecided whether to leap in or back out. Eye to eye boy and wolf stared at each other for one terrible moment.
N.C. Wyeth
1923
The girl watched her lover a little anxiously because he was moody. The visitor ate with his eyes down.
The girl watched her lover a little anxiously because he was moody. The visitor ate with his eyes down.
N.C. Wyeth
1916
His eyes looked as Sabra had never seen them look . . ., (alternate concept)
His eyes looked as Sabra had never seen them look . . ., (alternate concept)
N.C. Wyeth
1929
He Talked with His Eyes--a Single Sharp Shifting of the Eyeballs and a Flash of Light from Them
He Talked with His Eyes--a Single Sharp Shifting of the Eyeballs and a Flash of Light from Them
N.C. Wyeth
1908
His eyes looked as Sabra had never seen them look, merciless, cold, hypnotic. "A three-cornered piece, you'll find it, Lon. The Cravat sheep-brand"
His eyes looked as Sabra had never seen them look, merciless, cold, hypnotic. "A three-cornered piece, you'll find it, Lon. The Cravat sheep-brand"
N.C. Wyeth
1929