Word: agee
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...buried under the red cedars, and for a long moment stood with his head bowed before the grave of his father and mother. On a platform looking out over sun-splashed fields of the finest corn in lowans' memory, Hoover spoke. He recalled leaving West Branch at the age of ten to live on his uncle's farm (his father died when he was six, his mother when he was nine), the long round of farm chores, the unending making of provisions for the next winter. "In those primitive days," he said, "social security was had from...
...Margaret (Coming of Age in Samoa') Mead, Associate Curator of Anthropology at the American Museum of Natural History, admitted that guilt feelings were floating around the U.S.-especially among certain groups ("Liberals have always more guilt than anyone else"). However, Dr. Mead thought guilt could be healthy-"I mean the kind of guilt which makes people pay their taxes, not throw banana peels into the street, which makes people feel responsible...
...ethics of the underclassmen, the souvenirs belonged to them. For with California's help, the U.S. had run up 662 points when the Olympic "permanent flame" went out last week after the dampest, most amicable Olympiad of the modern age. Next in line: Sweden 353, France 230½, Hungary 201½, Italy...
...hardbitten or tired English tempers in later years, that felicitous pre-1914 age came to seem almost mythical; and Rupert Brooke, its golden lad, became himself a myth, romantic, heartbreaking, and also a little flimsy. He had written, when the war began...
...writing, artistic or critical. Poverty and illness and ambition drove his poetic progenitor John Keats; but early success, doting friends and romantic passions distracted Brooke. He was almost at his best in his letters. From a Munich boardinghouse he described a "monstrous, tired-faced, screeching, pouchy creature, of infinite age and horror, who screams opposite me at dinner and talks with great crags of food projecting from her mouth." Musing on Niagara Falls, Poet Brooke wrote: "The river, with its multitudinous waves and its single current, likens itself to a life . . . And as incessant, as inevitable and as unavailing...