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Gallant, flamboyant, brilliant, shrewd, unpredictable and seemingly fearless, Jean de Lattre was one of the ablest soldiers of his time and a patriot without qualification. In an increasingly cynical world, he took the words "honor" and "country" seriously. He would literally blanch at the suggestion that all Frenchmen might not instantly rush to the defense of their country at any time. "That is sacrilege, sacrilege!" he would mutter, and his own deep conviction was enough to spur French pride. He had his small vanities: uniforms tailored by Lanvin, an insistence on low-numbered license plates...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: HEROES: The Patriot | 1/21/1952 | See Source »

Besides being jealously opposed by the News, plans for a council have always faced opposition from the secret societies which blanch at the thought of having over-zealous student politicians trying to control what goes on in their tomb-like structures. Fraternity men similarly fight any proposal for a council in fear that a council might eventually dictate the percentage of alcohol in the Sunday morning milk punch...

Author: NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED | Title: Student Councils at Yale Undergo Periodic Births, Usually Die Soon | 11/25/1950 | See Source »

...world where a good many fathers blanch at the thought of another mouth to feed; and where "rejected" children grow up to spend their time & money on psychiatrists' couches, U.S. readers have jumped at the chance to meet a man like Frank Bunker Gilbreth. He told his bride straight off on their wedding day that he wanted a lot of children-at least a dozen. She liked the idea. Before his death in 1924, he had sired the twelve redheaded youngsters that he'd bargained for. And he had taken a keen interest in their upbringing...

Author: /time Magazine | Title: Books: Let's Have Twelve | 6/13/1949 | See Source »

...then punted over the nearest convertible. The leaves scattered across the canvas but before they were still, Vag was off down Mt. Auburn on the run, leaping to touch the magenia flags with his fingertips. "Har--vard!" he called to the clear New England sky, but it didn't blanch. The people didn't turn around, doors didn't fly open; the traffic light went casually from green to yellow. "Har--vard," Vag called once again, and then slowed to a walk. Doesn't anybody care? he wondered...

Author: NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED | Title: The Vagabond | 11/20/1948 | See Source »

...desirable interests elsewhere. A case in point is the election of NSA delegates to be reheld on Monday. Those few who withstand the rigors of campaigning and become victors at the ballot box will face a long and gruelling career that would make even a history and lit concentrator blanch. Better that they know the worst now and that the voters also know the duties to which they are committing the men of their choice. Winning the NSA election is more than just winning a free trip to Madison, Wisconsin in September...

Author: NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED | Title: Words of Warning | 4/24/1948 | See Source »

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