His signature look is as much about darkness as light and a heavy, glowering darkness at that.
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He flounced out of the government in March, but goes on glowering from the wings.
Pickup trucks were being searched by government soldiers in black ski masks, glowering motorists frisked and questioned.
Above, a curtain of glowering cloud was fat with the possibility of rain.
And Jeannette was snorting like a bull and glowering at any interlopers.
Where Mr Brown's glowering personality has obscured the talents in his cabinet, Mr Cameron lets George Osborne (the shadow chancellor), Michael Gove (his education spokesman) and others shine.
The Soviet Union is thankfully dead, but people still make the trek to Highgate Cemetery, slightly north of the usual tourist path, to look at Marx's enormous glowering head.
Ben Whishaw plays the glowering Jean-Baptiste Grenouille, born among the fish stalls of eighteenth-century Paris, who follows his nose and becomes the assistant to a noted Italian perfumer (Dustin Hoffman).
Heading back to pack our bags beneath those same glowering ancestors (who somehow now look less forbidding) we consider how the misadventure of an ill-timed traffic jam on the Bosphorus Bridge brought us to this hidden island paradise.
Isabella Swan (Kristen Stewart), a lovely, slender, self-possessed high-school junior, moves to a new school in rainy Washington State and sees a tall, inordinately pale boy, Edward Cullen (the square-jawed Robert Pattinson), glowering at her in despair.
In the afternoon, we rent a little local home in one of the prettiest backstreets, a tiny town-house filled with heavily lacquered antique furniture, glowering sepia photographs of ancestors and an aged television perfect for watching equally vintage Turkish soap operas.
For all the tension and discomfort of the scene in the movie that takes place at the Plaza it's the one where Gatsby reveals his relationship with Daisy to her glowering husband Tom on a sweltering summer afternoon in the days before air-conditioning at least they had Central Park views.
Last week, he sat glowering in the House of Commons while Dawn Primarolo, a junior treasury minister of limited ability, tried to explain why one of Mr Brown's flagship policies, laudably designed to help the working poor, had instead driven large numbers of them into distress and penury.
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