Word: attics
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: all
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...even necessarily have to be carried by anything resembling a missile (much less aircraft). "There is no reason why the parts of an atomic bomb . . . should not be brought in bit by bit by seemingly innocent people and assembled anywhere where cover can be found, in an embassy, attic, lodging or in a ship in harbor." Many atomic authorities would agree. But his theory that "once a weapon is used it becomes obsolete" is a bit sweeping considering the long bow (1,000 years), the rifle (six centuries plus) and the atomic bomb (18 months plus...
...address of our office-residence is #3 Shih Tze-kai (Crossroad). It is a six-room greybrick bungalow, with an attic, garage and shanty-like servants' quarters. It has bamboo-fenced grounds, which were given over to neighborhood pigs, fowl and scabby babies. It had been occupied by the Japanese for eight years, and neglected for eight years. Consequently, it was in an absolutely revolting state of disrepair: no furniture, tat ami (raised floors) everywhere, brokendown plumbing and lighting, filth, filth and more filth...
...looked now as if Raymond Duncan, brother of the late Isadora and undisputed leader of the homespun Attic cult in Paris, would be busy with salons on two continents. In Manhattan for his first visit in 15 years, Raymond was charmed with the place, planned to shuttle back & forth between Paris and Manhattan hereafter. "New York," said 72-year-old Raymond, his feet in sandals, his pageboy bob in a silvery fillet, "is like an old California mining town. ..." While he was at it he discussed miners. "The miners have a gun . . . and the public has to give up! ... Unions...
...proprietor on that day, had returned it later with the front seat covered with blood. In the car, police found John Dick's blue sweater. Out in the back yard of her home, police found bits of human bones mixed with some cinders from the furnace. In her attic, encased in cement in an old suitcase, was the partly mummified body of a baby boy. So the police asked Evelyn some questions...
...while rummaging with her teen-aged daughter in the attic, Jeanne Grain, a 34-year-old mother, runs across an ancient phonograph record (Rudy Vallee's My Time Is Your Time) and a quaint old snapshot of something called a flagpole sitter. In heaven's name, mother (gasps the bobby-soxer), what was life like back in those funny, faraway times? Most of Margie is mother's flashback, Technicolor-and-music reminiscences...