Word: barkness
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: all
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...when they notice his forehead. A Vietnam War injury has left him with a deep indentation in his skull and a messy plug of scar tissue. The wound has all but deprived him of the power of speech. Anytime he tries to talk, the best he can do is bark out one or two syllables. "I gave up explaining years ago," he says, in the gently lyrical interior monologue that makes up Dave King's The Ha-Ha (Little, Brown; 340 pages). By the time we come upon him in thickening middle age, Howie has pretty much given up venturing...
...still wore revolution-style footwear-better known as "Ho Chi Minh sandals"-handmade from rubber car tires. When Lao authorities caught the group-which had now grown to 34 men, women, children and infants-crossing the border from Cambodia, they were clad in clothes fashioned from tree bark...
...food worries that plagued Caley, have time to revel in their surroundings. Giant red waratah blooms stand on thick stalks like sentinels beside dark pools. Slow slugs colored electric pink and pale green come out after the rain, when the rich brown, gold and silver-gray hues of wet bark glisten. Huge flowers adorn gnarled banksia trees so old they would have been sprouting when Caley passed by. Owls call to another in the dark, and the stars, which Caley thought he was seeing when he found glow-worms in Luminous Valley, glitter fiercely. In the end, lack of food...
Yale is clearly falling behind. Like a wounded dog pulled behind the ancient Stoics’ proverbial wagon, Yale limps towards the inevitable gnashing its teeth in a desperate and futile attempt to change its fate. But no matter how much Yalies bark and howl about Harvard’s tailgates—which, despite the Boston Police Department’s best efforts, had enough sauce to warm undergraduate revelers all morning and afternoon—or their supposedly superior—read: sweaty and pathetic—social life or their New Haven bunker mentality that they confuse...
...lightening flashes intermittently in an otherwise clear sky, a group of more than 200 Marines begins to gear up on a dusty plain outside the Iraqi city of Fallujah. Officers bark orders, directing grunts into their vehicles. Tank drivers climb into turrets and crank up heavy-metal tunes. Infantrymen who moments earlier had been asking about baseball scores exhort one another to move forward. "This is what you trained for, Marine!" "You're the hunter! You're the predator...