Word: breast
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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...stared at him, dazed and transfixed, and he went over and kneeled beside her, and took her two feet close in his two hands Then he looked up at her with that awful appeal in his full, glowing eyes. She was utterly incapable of resisting it. From her breast flowed the answering, immense yearning over him; she must give him anything, anything...
...ever been a lesbian. "I never, never in any way attempted to seduce Sylvia Plath into a homosexual relationship," she told the court in unwavering tones. Referring to other details in the film, she added, "I also never made any suicide attempts or had scars on my breast. And certainly I never hung myself." Precisely, said defense lawyers, because the character is fictional. "Joan Gilling commits suicide, in the book and the movie, and yet Jane Anderson is here in court," Attorney Alexander H. Pratt Jr. pointed out to the jury in his opening statement. "Obviously the character was fictitious...
...smooth bar of soap, wrapped neatly in a white handkerchief and tucked safely in the breast pocket of a faded leather jacket, is all that keeps George from losing himself to the streets. When he wakes each morning from his makeshift bed of newspapers in the subway tunnels of Philadelphia, he heads for the rest room of a nearby bus station or McDonald's and begins an elaborate ritual of washing off the dirt and smells of homelessness: first the hands and forearms, then the face and neck and finally the fingernails and teeth. Twice a week he takes...
...stress. The captain, 27, was about to be married and was awaiting a job interview with Eastern Air Lines; the first officer, 26, had been with Henson only two months, duty that took her away from her husband, and she was planning further examination of a lump in one breast...
...second biggest city in the U.S., and determined to make itself felt. It teems with new money thirsting for status through art. In Los Angeles, city of therapies, one sees the great American illusion that art is socially therapeutic brought to its apex. Medicean longings inflate the breast of the lowliest junk-bond zillionaire. Whole busloads of fledgling collectors shuttle on regular tours, shepherded by docents, art-investment consultants and "educators" of every stamp, among the private collections of Beverly Hills, Bel Air and Malibu. What other commodity offers such a blend of transcendence and fiscal display? Buying...