Word: braggings
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...implied was, as a generality, correct; nor did it err in what it suggested as to the thinness, mildness, composure of Trader Cutten. Such a man he is. He lives on a dirt farm in La Grange, Ill. He always answers questions, though sometimes cryptically. He does not brag. Once he was a clerk in a hardware store. Now he is reported to have 10,000,000 bushels of wheat and rye at Great Lake ports...
...honor: "There are many anniversaries which mark our journey through life. At 21 years of age we are welcomed to manhood and citizenship; at 60 and 70 we do not like to have the dates well-known because we wish to be considered younger; at 80 we begin to brag about our age; and when we enter upon the last lap or the century at 90, then the world rejoices and helps us along...
...indifference of Harvard is as strong toward the academic work as toward other elements of college life. Few men attain the honors of Groups I or II, or even Ed; most are content with enough C's to quality; many there are who brag aloud of their consistent; achievements in bluffing, or of sleeping or card-playing through class hours. The chance for contact between student and instructor is so slight that any communication between them is of a cold, telegraphic variety. When a student does take the trouble to try to know his instructor better, he is generally regarded...
...will come here to enter the real estate business. I believe the time has come to draw the line against all foreigners and make this a 100% American and Gentile city. There are inevitable slums where there are many foreigners, and we want to be able to continue to brag that we have no slums here...
...pore. . . . Nobody want to relax; nobody wants to ruminate, or drowse, or dream. We cultivate business on the golf course, solicit orders on furious motor drives on State highways, and go through violent motions in the unspeakable gymnasium because we don't know how to sit. . . . Unless you can brag about your score at this or that, unless you can recount your hunting tales and speeding yarns, you talk in strange languages to your luncheon campanions. We are a nation of sweating amateurs...