Word: belongings
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...Divine right went out with the American Revolution and doesn't belong to White House aides," the speaker said. "What meat do they eat that makes them grow so great? I am not willing to elevate them to a position above the great mass of the American people. I don't think we have any such thing as royalty or nobility that exempts them. I'm not going to let anybody come down at night like Nicodemus* and whisper something in my ear that no one else can hear. That is not Executive privilege. It is Executive...
Under the terms of the 1868 agreement, the Black Hills belong exclusively to the Sioux. The treaty makes the Federal government responsible for keeping white men out of the Black Hills...
Colonel Risner named Oct. 15, 1969 as the beginning of improvement in the prisoners' treatment. The credit for the change seems to belong to all the people who tried at about that time to focus world attention on the plight of the P.O.W.s-President Nixon, the wives of the P.O.W.s, Congress and the media. Embarrassed by world pressure, the politburo in Hanoi may have passed the word to go easier. At any rate, prisoners were allowed for the first time to exercise outdoors for 30 minutes, but behind bamboo screens so that they could not see each other; they...
...very restricted and slanted view of her talk and can only be called disrespectful. The article lived up to Ms. Kennedy's criticism of The Crimson as it was unimaginative, uninformative and downright bad reporting. The author stuck quotations from her speech together which did not belong together forcing an irrational tone on the talk, and he further completely failed to comment on the very important political and psychological points she made in her own very exciting way. The reporter obviously has an anal preoccupation and lacks any understanding of the figurative use of Ms. Kennedy's words...
Afraid to open the closet, or rummage in the chest of drawers, she slips on a pair of jeans and a dirty undershirt that are lying on the floor. They belong to the sleeping, snuffling unaware man. They fit her body like his embrace. They are comfortable and familiar, holding her inside their odor of male sweat and cologne. She walks to the bed and looks at him again, smelling the shirt. Yes, it is his shirt. But who is he? She feels somehow sorry to be leaving him, and with her clothes stuffed in his closet...