To betray his trust would have been in his mind a thing undreamed. He was phlegmatic, stolid to such a degree that one could not but wonder how the Revolution had any meaning to him at all. And yet love of freedom glowed sombrely and steadily in his dim soul.
Jack London. The Iron Heel
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to the gentle, delicate, almost timid expression which might often be caught flitting across the face, dusted all over with freckles, of this otherwise stolid child.
Marcel Proust. In Search of Lost Time [volume 1] Swann’s Way
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The stolidity with which I received these instructions was, no doubt, rather exasperating: for they were delivered in perfect sincerity;