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Word: balme (lookup in dictionary) (lookup stats)
Dates: during 1960-1969
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Usage:

...12th, between the massive, dark blocks that were the buildings of Internal Revenue and Interstate Commerce. I kept getting these flashes of old war movies I had seen where a bomb would plop down right next to your buddy, and you'd see the thing coming at him, and, balm, your buddy would be gone. But none of these bombs were really exploding. I found myself laughing, and shouting happily to someone beside me. "Wow, they're using all the goddamn stuff up on us." It seemed hardly worth their effort, but it was mildly flattering...

Author: By Gregg J. Kilday, | Title: Memoirs of a Would-be Street lighter | 11/21/1969 | See Source »

...investigated is irrelevant. Result: the Robertses, who live in Hollywood, Fla., will have to be paid 10? per mile for the 20-mile trip to and from the IRS office in Fort Lauderdale. And they will get $4 a day for every day the hearing lasts. Presumably, the same balm is now available to anyone who is called in for a going-over...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Taxes: Balm from the IRS | 8/16/1968 | See Source »

...Later Balm. Reviewers were ecstatic...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Books: The Cinderella Switch | 9/15/1967 | See Source »

Still, her own age overpraised Charlotte. The real genius turned out to be the reclusive Emily who poured a primitive spirit into Wuthering Heights and wrote a handful of lyrics that rival Blake's. Yet Charlotte's success was balm in her tragic years. In 1848, she buried Branwell; soon after, both Emily and Anne died of consumption. Charlotte fell in love with Arthur Bell Nicholls, the Haworth curate. Her father begged her not to marry because he feared she was too small and frail to sur vive pregnancy. He was right. After a few months of marriage...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Books: The Cinderella Switch | 9/15/1967 | See Source »

...they won him no peace of mind. In a rage with the world, Lowell found no balm in his religion, and he renounced Catholicism. Nor was marriage a solace; it was another theater for his inner dissension. He and his wife wrote in separate rooms of a big old farmhouse. Years later, he remembered: How quivering and fierce we were. There snowbound together/ Simmering like wasps/ In our tent of books!/ Poor ghost, old love, speak/ With your old voice/ Of flaming insight/ That kept us awake all night. In one bed and apart . . . They were divorced...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Poets: The Second Chance | 6/2/1967 | See Source »

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